


Up is Down

by theshayshay



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Age of Sail, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Multi, Piracy, Pirates, Sea Goddess, Sea Monsters, alchemists, kraken - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-29 20:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 101,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5141717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshayshay/pseuds/theshayshay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The high seas and a vacation in the Caribbean...who could resist, right? The Elric brothers certainly can. Unfortunately, they're stuck and they're not alone. Pirates, goddesses and Krakens, oh my! Even Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't have predicted this...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nasty Little Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**  
> 
> **Note: Oh my, yes. A spontaneous and wild crossover has been born. This story started up when I was a wee little teenager, with that unruly thing called 'imagination' that made me wonder what would happen if one world met another, and then even more things began attaching themselves to the story tighter than a Kraken's suction cups. Before I knew it, this story was born. So let me begin by saying, yes, this had been intended a self-insert of myself and my friend. If you wish to leave because of that alone, then please do so now. I have no time for useless words filling my inbox bemoaning about OCs or self-inserts and the like. I really don't. Ain't nobody got time for that.**  
> 
>  **To continue on for those who still wish to give this story a chance, I am now currently going to confess that I am a busy woman. It's been almost nine years since I started this tale and in that time, many things have changed. I am no longer a teenager. I have a child, a husband, and family obligations on top of my duties as an active duty military member. I also no longer see myself as "Lupin". I prefer another alias, as my changed username proclaims. However, I wish to finish this story, so I will continue the guise of "Lupin", even though she and I have evolved away from one another quite drastically over the years. My other stories profess as much as well.**  
>     
>  **To wrap this up, I'll give my thanks to my readers who continue to read this story, and especially, to my hetero life mate, Bishquet. You are an amazing woman, and you have kicked my ass too many times about this story for me to let it completely die. Thank you for being my beta and for feeding me ideas, and keeping the fire burning. I don't think I could have continued without you and your manic energy.**
> 
> **Additional:**   
>  **The year for Edward and Alphonse remains 1926.**   
>  **The year for Jack and the crew of the _Black Pearl_ remains 1772.**   
>  **The year for Lupin and Bishquet remains 2009.**
> 
> **Historical Facts:**   
>  **-On March 14, 1926 the S.S. Suduffco disappeared in the Bermuda Triangle during its passage to Los Angeles from New York City. Its captain, Thomas J. Turner and its crew of 29 men, all disappeared along with the freighter, never to be heard from or seen again.**   
>  **-On August 29, 1772, Puerto Rico and the Bahamas were damaged by a rather massive hurricane. But that’s the Caribbean for you, always getting hit by those hurricanes. Those rebellious little weather-y punks.**   
>  **-The Bimini Road is an unusual rock formation made up of limestone north of the Bimini Islands, which incidentally are very close to Bermuda Triangle. Some say it’s the road that leads to Atlantis. Others say, located in the Bimini Islands themselves, lies the Fountain of Youth…**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_If you're feeling good, don't worry. You'll get over it._  
**\- Anonymous**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

They were running late. How typical! Edward _knew_ that desk clerk was going to end up being unreliable for a cursory wakeup call, but noooo, he didn’t listen to his gut for once. He had listened to stupid, sleepy skull instead. He adjusted his grip on his bag as he dashed down another street corner.

“Damn it all—we’re almost there, come on, Alphonse!”

His brother easily kept up with him as they sluiced through the crowded streets of New York City. Motored vehicles were more of a norm over here in America, it seemed, more so than in Europe. There were still plenty of horse-drawn buggy carriages, however. They had to stop for a particularly long wait at a curb as the street traffic picked up. They could already smell the faint tinge of brine in the air. It was ever-present, but here it was stronger. 

When a lull in the traffic presented a perfect moment to cross the cobbled streets, they lurched forward, once more into the fray. The bellowing of ships’ horns from the dockyards rent through the air. Another block and they were there. The docks were crawling with all sorts of people from nearly every walk of life. 

Edward patted his pockets, feeling the bulge of his and Alphonse’s tickets there—passage back to Europe from this country. It would take them a few weeks, and their quarters were less than desirable, but it was better than waiting for another three or four weeks. It was better than nothing at all. 

“Brother, wait, wait! You’re running past our ship!” 

The older Elric had to skid to a halt and nearly plowed into a rather burly looking man, roughened by a life at seas. The sailor sneered, carrying a heavy bag filled with grain. He spat on the ground at Edward’s feet. “Watch where you’re going, mouse.” 

Rage welled up in his chest at the insult, but Alphonse hurriedly steered Edward away with a stern hiss, “Now isn’t the time! They’re about to pull away the gangplank, c’mon!” 

He tugged his older brother away from a potential fight—one that Ed would most likely have won no doubt—and up toward an open gangway that led into the ship. A crewmember stood by, waiting and looking rather bored in his duties. He was busy watching a huge crane hauling cargo onto the freighter when the Elrics stumbled upon him. He was startled at the sight of the two coming up toward him, a packet thrust upon him so unceremoniously. 

“What—what is— _tickets_?” 

He scratched his head, he watched the two antsy looking brothers with a frown, hesitating. Then a light of recognition graced his plain features. 

“Oh. Oh! I forgot we had some passengers on our manifest. You should be our last passengers, then. Edward and Alphonse Elric, yes?” 

“Yes,” Edward answered in relief, while Alphonse nodded. The sailor looked over the paperwork, nodded once or twice, and motioned them forward. 

“Go on, get settled in. Go down this corridor here, hang a left, follow that corridor until you hit the staircase. Go down two flights, and one of our guys should be able to point you out to your room for the trip and then toward the mess hall after. Try not to get in the way and we’ll all get along fine. Welcome to the _S.S._ _Suduffco_.” 

With a dismissive wave, the Elric brothers were free to go within the confines of the freighter. Following the sailor’s directions, they were finally home free…for the moment, at least they were. 

The bastard they were hunting down had given them the slip yet again. For the last few years, he and his brother had spent all of their energy and time to hunt down the man who had come into possession of an artefact from their past, an object comprised of the element uranium. The unstable element alone was something to worry about. The fact that it was already crafted into _bomb_ made everything worse in every way. If the wrong people got their hands on it—such as any number of bitter, failing nations—the world as a whole could change for the worse. Destroying it was the only way to ensure that it wasn’t reverse-engineered and mass produced in any way. 

Anything from their world could present a danger to this one; it was only a small blessing in disguise that this world did not have alchemy. 

This setback in their travels alone was going to delay them. A false lead had them stranded in America for longer than either of them would have liked. Now they were on the right track. The _S.S. Suduffco_ should see them to Europe. Noa was still waiting for them, after all. 

Barely two hours later, the freighter ship was slowly pulling away from the wharfs of New York City and sliding into Manhattan Bay. The skies were a slate gray with the promise of rain and the sea a steely blue-gray that made one shiver just from the sight of it. The cityscape began to slip away, and the iconic Statue of Liberty seemed to grow taller the closer they came to her. 

Her impassive face stared blandly out, tireless and still. The _S.S. Suduffco_ crawled past the giantess statue. There were other ships in the harbor as well, their horns blowing in the distance, as though in response to one another. Alphonse and Edward found their way topside in time to find that the bay had finally been left behind, and only the open ocean stretched out before them was left to get underway. Behind the freighter, New York City and the country of America was steadily growing smaller. 

For a time, neither of them said anything. The chug of the engines, the whipping of the wind, the roar of the waters below, and the occasional shouts from crewmembers were the only things heard. Edward felt a heavy sigh collecting in the pit of his chest and after a while, finally found the urge to release it. Alphonse stirred at the noise, looking to his brother. 

“Something wrong?” 

“It’s disappointing. That we came all this way, I mean. We traveled so far on nothing but a wild rumour that was most likely meant to throw us off track.” 

They didn’t even have a name to put to the madman they chased. They barely had a picture, either. He was like a spider in the darkness or a bogeyman hiding under the bed, waiting, watching.

 Alphonse reflected on this, knowing there was a kernel of truth to his brother’s words. He saw a silver lining, however. “At least we know now instead of much later. And we have the people we’ve met to thank for that. They were helpful enough to point us in the right direction.”

 Edward snorted, face drawn in scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, sure, right after we hit a slew of unhelpful people. The ones that had us running around in circles trying to find which way was up.” He grumbled, hunching over against the cold wind. “I can’t wait to get back to where it’s warm…New York City’s too cold for me. I don’t know how you managed to sleep at all the time we were here.” 

The younger Elric laughed at his older brother’s seemingly childish antics, but he did have to agree with that. Over the last few weeks, New York City had been gripped in a rather nasty cold snap. It was only just last week that the last of the snow and most of the ice had finally melted, but the cold air and icy winds still lingered. The minutes dragged as they observed the happenings below. Edward yawned and stretched. 

“I think I’m gonna head back down. Come get me when it’s time to eat, would you?” 

“Sure. See you then, brother,” Alphonse nodded, glancing over to watch his brother depart. He turned back to watch the sea out ahead of them for a while longer. 

Within the hour, he grew bored of standing around and fell into the habit of wandering his new surroundings. It would be their temporary home for the next few weeks. It’d be wise to know the ins and the outs of the place. 

He crossed paths with several crewmembers, including the one that had reviewed their tickets earlier. Not much older than his brother, the young man looked more renewed and happier now that they were underway. He introduced himself as Jeremy, and offered to take him on a small tour of the ship. Alphonse took up the offer. It was better than aimlessly roaming about. 

He learned that Jeremy had been sailing for almost eight years, serving under many jobs on several ships, although Captain Turner and the _S.S. Suduffco_ had so far been his best employed job to date. It paid a little more as well, which was a plus. Jeremy was also sending what money he had to his family in Oklahoma, keeping little for himself. 

“I just wanted to get away when I was younger, but I guess that didn’t work. I’m still connected to everyone back home in some way. I just don’t want them to think I’ve forgotten about them, you know? So I send what I can, whenever I can. I’m thinking of going back home after this trip, though. It’s been a while since I’ve seen everyone.” 

Afterward, the bell tolled that evening was underway and that food was to be served soon. 

“I’d better go grab my brother. He’s probably awake now and hungry.” Alphonse said in way of apology as he turned to step away. Jeremy waved him on. 

“Not a problem. It’s going to be a long few months, but we’ve got plenty of food and drink here. He won’t miss out on a meal, so long as he’s on time.” 

That gave Alphonse pause. Months? But their journey should only take them a few weeks, at most. When he said as much, Jeremy only scratched his head, that same puzzled expression gracing his rough features as when they first met him. 

“No, no. It’ll be several months. California’s a long way off.” 

“California?!” 

“Well, yes. That’s where our manifest is headed for. Wait...are you trying to get to California?” 

“No! We were told that this ship was heading for Germany!” 

“That…oh, wow. Nobody told you about the change in destination?” Jeremy scratched his head again. “Our last contract fell through, so we took up another one and our destination changed up. We tried to get in contact with you to inform you about the change, the last I heard.” 

“We never got the call. We stayed in the same place the entire time we’ve been in New York.” 

Deflated, Alphonse wondered how well his brother would take this news. Seconds later, he decided “not very” as the top result. And that was a pretty huge understatement, really. 

“I guess they didn’t even try. Now I’m wondering if our other passengers who were expecting to get to Europe know…I think I’d better talk to the captain about this,” Jeremy said, looking sheepish and apologetic. “Look….look, I’m sure we can fix this. We make port in the Bahamas and arrange a transfer for you and whoever else needs to change out. Might cost a little extra to pull those strings, but we’ll see what we can do.” 

He offered his thanks to Jeremy and parted ways, mulling over this information as he headed back to his and his brother’s quarters. The settlement held some promise and Alphonse felt a little better, although not by much. They were back a square now, and it only seemed like a downhill decline with their luck. Who was he kidding? 

Edward was going to blow his top, regardless of the compromise. He just wondered if he should tell him before or after they ate.

 **OoOoOoOoOoO**

The sea was as calm and peaceful as it could get, with a ripe wind catching in the blackened sails high above. The waters glittered a crystalline blue, sometimes so clear, one could see the sands below with perfect clarity. One such passage was making itself present, as men aloft called down below where treacherous sandbars were lying in wait. Another man on the foredeck heard the warning and relayed it to the captain at the ship’s wheel.

Dark brown eyes hidden behind a mask of kohl flicked to the warning sailor in question, then they were back to gazing at the horizon. His hands responded in kind, tipping the wheel toward starboard. All his men were busy scuttling about to and fro, up and down the decks, carrying out his previous orders. Beside him stood another man, the only one not doing much of anything, except waiting. A bit on the portly side, but steadfast and loyal, one couldn’t ask for a better first mate on the ship.

Or that’s the impression Joshamee Gibbs had on the man’s opinion of him. Jack Sparrow was, at most times, a hard man to figure out compared to most, even after years of knowing the man. Gibbs spared an anxious glance toward the aft of the ship, almost expecting to see a snarling whorl of storm clouds racing to catch up to them. The decorative carvings that rose high above behind them blocked his view, but he only had to shuffle toward the gunwale to see the ugly stain on the opposite horizon.

A bell’s keening peel interrupted the relative quietness, signaling the time. No doubt food would be underway soon, if it wasn’t already.

“Cap’n,” he said at last. The figure before him barely moved, but he did tip his head closer toward Gibbs. The assorted beads and baubles tied or braided in clinked with the movement.

“Seems to be a storm on its way,” the captain rumbled back, although there wasn’t a hint of worry in his voice.

“That seems to be the truth o’ it. It’s been building behind us for quite some time now.” He allowed a measured pause to pass between them before speaking up again. “It seems t’ me that we’ve lost Norrington and his small contingency, but now we’ve a tempest t’ contend with. An’ from the look of those clouds, it doesn’t look t’ be small.”

True enough, the dark front flickered beyond, the promise of more than just rains and winds to be had. There was a distant boom, but there were no other ships around them to worry about an attack from. It was merely the storm whispering away in the distance, the grumbling growl of thunder carrying its message to them.

Jack swayed in time with the pitch and yaw of the _Black Pearl_ , perfectly at ease in spite of the news. He had sailed many other ships in his lifetime, but none would ever feel so much like home as the _Pearl_ would. He had sorely missed his old girl. Jacks’ fingers curled a little more tightly around the spokes he held. Gibbs didn’t miss the possessive squeeze, but pretended to. Instead he focused on the very faint, but noticeably gold-flecked smile from the extravagantly dressed man beside him.

“Aye, that sounds about right. Our bloody friend Norrington made the mistake of coming after us too soon, it would seem. He should’ve waited a few more days.”

“We’ll be in the same predicament soon enough. Not unless we can put some distance out.”

For a time, the captain didn’t answer. Gibbs kept himself trained from fidgeting too much, or appearing overly antsy. Old habits from his days as a man in the King’s Navy employ, however distant in years they were, died hard. Instead, he busied himself with moving toward the port side gunwale, gazing toward the skies to the Pearl’s aft. He could see some semblance of flicking lightning dancing amongst the stormy head front. Already, he could feel the wind and the rain lashing out against his skin, ghostly trails sliding across his body. He shivered. The feeling never quite went away.

“Mister Gibbs, I do believe you are, for th’ time being, in th’ right about that observation. We’ve already lost that little fleet under the good Commodore Norrington. It’d be best if we kept that good distance between us for the time being.”

“Aye, that sounds about right,” Gibbs said in agreement, returning to Jack’s side. Jack, in turn, eyed the men aloft and the deck below. Then he began barking out for their attention. Eyes turned toward the quarterdeck in an instant. Satisfied that he had their ears and eyes, he began relaying his orders: every sheet would be unfurled to give the _Pearl_ her full speed. He wanted every available hand aloft to make it happen.

When he finished, they continued staring, as though not sure if more was to come. He wagged his hands toward them, making a shooing motion.

“Well, go on, you pox-ridden curs, step lively now!”

They scattered at that last command, all except Gibbs. The two watched as men, nimble and spritely, ascended to the higher mezzanines of the _Pearl_ ’s masts. They began shouting at one another with who would go where and do what.

“What do ye think will happen t’ th’ poor devils caught in that storm?”

Already blackened sheets of canvas began to unfurl from above. There was a small but noticeable lurch in the _Black Pearl_ , hurling her forward through the water a mite faster.

“Mister Gibbs, I haven’t the foggiest in that regard. One thing I can tell ye that’s for dead certain, is that Norrington an’ his troop of loyal men will most likely be caught in it. If we’re lucky, he’ll lose a chunk of said good men and hopefully some of his ships, if not most. If we’re even luckier, we might lose the good Commodore hisself, but that’s never an absolute certainty. I will say though, I would hate t’ be caught unawares an’ go through the tragic loss of the _Black Pearl_ yet again, shortly after only getting her back. So, let’s try t’ keep ‘er in one piece, shall we?”

“Aye, sir. I’m sure we can coax some more wind into her sails.”

At this comment, it made the captain grin and a few gold teeth became visible. “Good. Now, Mr. Gibbs, if you’ll please return to your duties…I have a ship t’ sail, a heading to maintain, an’ a storm to outrun.”

 **OoOoOoOoOoO**

The cool breeze that blew in was a relief from the hot blue skies and sweltering, muggy heat of the Caribbean Sea. Crystal clear blue waters sparkled, the sun casting dancing lights upon its reflective surface. The beautiful sight, however, was lost upon the Guatemalan woman trying to pull her unruly, curly black hair into a semblance of a ponytail. It was hard to keep it all in line, however, on a bouncing tour boat. Even in the shade and wearing shorts and a tank top, she was sweating.

Coffee brown eyes scanned the area, looking for a familiar face that promised to bring her cool refreshment from the small bar inside. She began to fan herself. A minute later, her friend was back, bearing two water bottles, crisp and cold, straight from the cooler. Bish latched onto the bottle with fervor, while her friend laughed. She glared from the corner of her eye.

“Hey, you don’t get to laugh, it’s fucking hot. I’m not the one who wanted to go to the Caribbean for the summer, _you_ were. I’m wearing sparkly sunscreen, and I’m still baking! I blame you, Loopy. You’ve killed me in this pretty paradise. I want that on my tombstone. ‘ _I Blame Lupin_ ’. You got that, right?”

Her friend, Lupin, laughed again. She was a lean little thing, and not very tall, with witty blue-gray eyes and a freckled tan face.

“Fair enough, just so long as you put on mine, ‘ _I REGRET NOTHING_ ’. It’s gotta be in all caps, that’s very important. Because that’s my response to your complaints. I mean, c’mon. Look at this place! It’s beautiful!”

“’Beautiful’, my ass,” Bishquet griped.

“Your ass is beautiful, I agree, but I’m not looking at it currently,” Lupin quipped back. It managed to elicit a small smile from the Hispanic woman. Despite her earlier complaints, Bish couldn’t deny the sea had its charms. She secretly did love how everything looked: from the clear waters, the cloudless blue skies, the attractive little islets they’ve passed on the tour boat. Most, if not all, of the other patrons were constantly snapping photos on their cameras or phones. But for all that was good and holy, she wished it would rain just a little bit. Anything would be a reprieve from this hot box.

Overhead, the PA system crackled to life, and the piteous thing tried its hardest to relay the announcer’s words clearly, but it was a losing battle. The words were garbled beyond comprehension and occasionally, static would win out over the voice. Lupin motioned for them to move closer to the wheel house where their tour guide stood. The rest of the passengers did the same and the tour guide put the mike away. Lupin and Bish slid their way to the front, past all the taller patrons.

“All right, so, welcome, welcome, welcome! Uh, thank you again, for choosing the Little Black Flag for your little touring needs around the island chain and its many little islets and cays. Again, my name is Jeffrey, and your captain for the day is Thatcher. Now, we are actually coming up on the furthest out chain of the Bahamas, which consists of over seven hundred islands in the Lucayan Archipelago, with Nassau on New Providence being its capital. Now, the Bahamas were first inhabited by the Lucayan people, who were a part of the Taino and these islands were actually the first discovery Christopher Columbus had made when he set out to find the ‘New World’, back in 1492…”

Their guide continued to drone on about facts about the Bahamas, occasionally interjecting a fact about one little islet or another, but they passed quite a few before they made for landfall on one particularly large island. It was bigger than the others. They circled around the coast at a distance, with Jeffrey occasionally pointing out little huts along the beach, offering fun facts about the islanders that lived on the island.

“Now, another fact that we’ve discovered lately, is that on this island, there was a smuggler’s den to the north. Smuggler’s dens were used as safe havens for pirates who needed to lie low for a time or to stash away their stolen goods until a later date. We’ve actually set aside a small portion of our time to go through the den, uh, from an entrance that was uncovered that led inland from the cave. Should be exciting!”

The boat made its way to a small dock protected in a little bay. The boat idled alongside the dock as the lines were tied off and the gangplank set out. Jeffrey stood attentively by, smiling to each of the passengers. He motioned toward a thin, winding trail leading into the jungle.

“Right that way, it’s about a quarter of a mile in, watch your step,” he called. Including Lupin and Bish, there was only about eight of them in total partaking in the guided tour.

Bish groaned as they trundled closer into the shade of the jungle, spotting how the trail was set at an incline. She glanced at Lupin from the corner of her eye, noting how the woman had, for whatever reason, decided to drag a pack with her on the tour. It was light, and mostly empty excepting a few snacks, choice drinks, and a few other miscellaneous items. Bish herself only carried her purse, which had her essential items like her phone and sunscreen lotion.

“You’re going to be hurting at the end of the day after carrying that thing all over the place. You know that, right?”

Lupin hefted her pack more securely onto her shoulders and gave a shrug. “I’ll live. I have Motrin.”

“Who do you think you are, Lara Croft?”

“I wish. I left my guns in my _other_ pair of shorts. So sorry.”

The banter came to standstill as their guide hurried to catch up with them. He was rather athletic, wiry and lean with muscle. It didn’t hurt much that he was also rather handsome. Sandy-blonde hair, winking blue eyes, tall stature. He had a good package going on in the tight shirt and baggy shorts he wore. He flashed them a smile and encouraging word that it wasn’t too far from the boat and the dock, that they’d be there before they knew it. Then he was jogging ahead to gather the rest of the clustered folks into a group again. Bish watched with a slight smirk as he did.

“That ass…is he souvenir? Can I have him? Can I, Lupin? I promise to take care of him.”

Lupin snorted and laughed. The Hispanic woman pouted, crossing her arms.

“What? I would.”

“Are you gonna stuff him in your luggage?”

“…maybe?”

The other woman continued to laugh and shook her head. “Only if he has a brother or a friend he’s willing to share with the rest of the class, hun.”

“I could ask,” she replied with a wiggle of her brows. Lupin grinned and motioned for them to continue on.

“I think we should catch up first before we get left behind. Pirates are a-calling.”

“Oh, so sorry, I forgot, you’re holding out for your precious Jack Sparrow.”

“Captain,” Lupin added, wagging her index finger at her companion. “There’s a captain in there.”

“My apologies. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow. What, you think he’s waiting in this smuggler’s den? That’s an awfully long time to be waiting around.” Bish teased with a pant. Cardio was certainly not her forte, but she was proud for keeping up on this godforsaken uphill climb. Lupin chuckled as they caught up to the back of the group, glancing behind her. Huge frond leaves and tangled undergrowth shaded their passage through the trail, but a small snippet of the waters below could be seen. Her smile faded a little when she spotted a dark smudge on the horizon beyond.

“That doesn’t look good,” she commented, nodding back. Bish paused to catch her breath, looking back.

“Is…are those clouds?” She asked hopefully.

“I…don’t know, possibly. They’re…really dark though. Hey, you didn’t happen to catch the weather this morning, did you? Anything about storms to worry about?”

Bish shrugged. She wiped her brow to clean it of sweat and slid her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I don’t remember. Maybe you should ask Jeffrey. He’s the guide, they should watch out for this shit. I mean, they take tour boats out on the water.”

“Right…good idea.”

Her idea, however, didn’t get much of a chance to come. People gawked and gaggled along the entire trail, and soon, thoughts of stormy weather were brushed aside as they arrived at the smuggler’s den entrance. The cool retreat of the cave air provided a temporary solace from the midday heat. The guided tour continued without a hitch. Inside the cave was mostly intact, with faint remains of a ruined hideout. Pieces of timber still clung to the cave walls, encrusted with salty brine. Water softly splashed up and down against everything.

Jeffrey continued in his passionate little tirade about the smuggler’s den they were visiting, and included a few other locations they were discovered in. Questions were fielded, and before they knew it, they were exiting the cave and back onto the jungle trail.

Some people noticed the more visible clouds and expressed concern. Jeffrey, however, kept up his confident façade, reassuring that they were fine. Some dove into complaints about rain ruining their vacation. Bish, however, was relieved.

“Oh, please let it rain. Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain.”

“Might wanna be careful what you wish for,” Lupin taunted in a singsong voice. Bish retaliated with a light punch in the other woman’s shoulder. Lupin only laughed and trotted ahead, waving for her friend to hurry up.

“I’m not running! Fuck you!”

“Aw, c’mon you big baby, we’re falling behind again!”

“You’re the only one carrying a backpack! Of course we’re falling behind!”

“Well, the sooner you get your ass in gear, the sooner we can get back and plan out our trip to see the Bimini Road!”

Bishquet gave pause to that comment, before realizing her friend had a point. It was one of the highlights of this trip to her. Lupin grinned slyly, realizing she had Bish hook, line, and sinker with that one.

“…let’s go.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Further out, the clouds continued to build in strength and size. The captain of the Little Black Flag watched as it slowly crawled closer their way, its dark front foreboding and worrying. Thatcher was a simple man with simple needs. He had his livelihood in this little boat, and made a decent profit selling tickets to tourists and taking them out around the island chain. Jeffrey was a good man, if a bit on the naïve side and needed a good nudge every once in a while in the right direction.

Jeffrey wasn’t long in his procession, gathering up the tourists like a mother hen. He waited until they were well under way again and pulling out of the bay less than twenty minutes later before addressing the matter.

“We should start heading back. Cut the tour short. I’ve been watching things from down here. You can see it plainly for yourself. If we don’t start now, we won’t make it back, ever.”

He saw the words were slowly sinking into Jeffrey’s head. He was young, but smart. The cogs clicked away in the man’s head before he bit his lip and nodded. “Okay, all right. Yeah. Let’s start heading back.”

He paused. “Um…do we…what if they ask for a refund? Since we’re cutting things short.”

Thatcher shrugged.

“They paid for a tour. We gave them one, just not the full package. We can offer a credit to finish it at a later date.”

“And if they don’t like that?”

“Take it up with Gregory back at the office. He can handle those complaints.”

“Got it.”

Turning back to the tour group, Jeffrey hesitated when he took full notice of the horizon. The dark smudge had crept closer and it looked more and more like it was heading their way. Perhaps it was time to get back.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


	2. Survival of the Fittest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

" _This would be really funny if it weren't happening to me."_ _  
_**\- Anonymous**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"What do you mean you can't get us a transfer in Nassau? I thought you had one lined up for us when we got here!"

"Look, son I can't, I just _can't_. There're no ships going out to Europe in New Providence at this time. If you feel like disembarking and waiting around the island for another ship to take you there, then by all means, get off my ship. I'll wash my hands of you through and through if that's what you want. The most I can do is get you to Puerto Rico. They have more traffic there, honestly and chances are, there's more of a chance that a ship with a heading for Europe. We'll be there in a few days if you can afford to wait. Otherwise, pack your bags and get off. I don't have time to babysit you lot."

The captain would hear nothing more about transfers in the port of Nassau after he'd said his piece. Edward counted what little he could as a consolation and stalked off the bridge, mulling over the information. He returned to his and Alphonse's cubby hole of a room and relayed the information to him.

"If Puerto Rico is only a few days out and on our way, we should just do it. Nassau is tiny. They might have had traffic before, but maybe around this time of year, they probably slowed down. Bigger islands might have a better chance of getting us there, especially if they have more ship traffic."

"But I'm ready _now_. The island is right _there_."

"The island's there, but a ship to Europe isn't. Do you really want to wait around and hope that the next ship pulling into the harbor is our ride?"

Edward deflated from his building rebuke, knowing that it was useless to argue the point. That was like arguing with a train to go another direction when there were no tracks, just because he wanted it to. He hated ships and he hated sailing. At least with the trains, he could have a transfer where he needed and it would be there sooner or later. Sighing, he finally nodded. "Fine. A few more days."

Alphonse grinned. "Cheer up, brother. At least there's some other good news to enjoy."

"Oh yeah?" He ticked his brow up at the younger Elric. "And what's that?"

"It's a lot warmer down here than it was New York City. You shouldn't be so cold anymore."

"Well now it's too hot and muggy. I'm sweating every night when it should be cooler. Can't we just have nice weather in between the two?" Edward griped, flopping back onto his cot. Alphonse continued to smile, shaking his head. The brief idea of perhaps sending a telegram or letter to Noa still waiting for them passed through his mind. It would certainly make it ahead of them, especially if it was a telegram. It would have been expensive, but worth alleviating the woman back in Europe. He'd have to talk with Jeremy to see how that could work out. She would probably be worried, having not heard from them in a while now.

"You're too difficult to please sometimes, brother," he laughed. Edward made another groan, but he smiled nonetheless. Puerto Rico. That really wasn't all that far. If memory served, it was just a little further down the island chain, close to Haiti and the Dominican Republic.

_Just a few more days. Then we'll be back on track._

The rest of the day took turn for the worst not long after that conversation. The light of the sun was soon blotted out with dark clouds and roiling seas. The tempest descended upon them like a savage beast. It tossed and turned the cumbersome freighter, shifting the cargo and passengers alike. The captain tried to keep them aloft and on course, and the crew worked in tandem to his orders.

The storm was winning out, however. It wasn't long before a reef tore huge gouges into the hull, and the scream of metal tearing apart echoed across the entire ship. Seawater surged inside, filling up every crevice it could, slithering into cracks and weakening it further. The _S.S. Suduffco_ moaned and continued to limp on in vain. From the bridge, the weakening lights flickered uncertainly and spat sparks every once in a while. The only respite from complete darkness was the constant flashes of lightning that played havoc in the sky above them. Captain Turner could hear men working down below calling for help over the communications device. Their pleas cut short suddenly and an explosion rocked the _Suduffco_ , sending it swaying and dangerously close to capsizing.

"It hit the boiler room!" One of his men shouted. "It had to be—nothing else on this ship could've done that."

Captain Turner hissed between his teeth, and he felt his heart leap to his throat. Already, they could smell the faint tinge of smoke in the air and a silent prayer was sent to the poor souls that had been trapped down there. All eyes were looking to him now, the same question written upon their faces. He jumped suddenly, never getting the chance to answer that unspoken inquiry when a tirade of banging was set off against the bridge hatch.

"What the devil…?"

A strangled cry was halfway out his throat when one of his men opened it. He settled when he saw it was not the ship tearing itself apart or the storm surging inside. It was only a handful of his passengers who had somehow managed to make their way to the bridge. The two brothers were there, dragging a third between them, all soaked to the bone. The one they were carrying looked to be in bad shape. He was barely conscious and one of his legs was dragging at an awkward angle.

"His leg's broken," said the older brother, as though reading his thoughts. He was the same haughty young man who had come to him earlier complaining about their transfer. The _Suduffco_ sloped heavily to her injured side again, sagging lower into the water before she was pitched the other way and upright again. Everyone staggered, trying to keep their balance. Another one of his men moved to help the brothers and their injured burden.

 _I should have stayed in Nassau a little longer_ , he thought, too little too late. Nassau was small, but what little shelter it could have provided would have been enough. The squall continued to hammer away at them. He heard one of his radio workers trying to push out an emergency S.O.S. to someone, anyone. No one would respond in this weather, he knew. They had no chance in this massive tub, not with the hull breached and certainly not with the boiler room gone to hell. The sea was claiming them, and she would have them, one way or another. She was not always kind and merciful.

"We need to find land! Is there any island close enough to us that we can make a run for?" This came from the younger one, his grey eyes wide and worried as they flicked to the observation window. Water was constantly sloshing against the panes, making it nearly impossible to see anything farther out. Lightning flashed and the roar of thunder drowned out most words.

"No, we're miles from any one of them, and even if we were, we'd be well beneath the waves before we could make it," another one of his other men shouted back above the raging tempest.

A squabble began to break up. Some were directed to him. Others were amongst themselves, voices trying to climb higher and higher above the roar of the storm and one another. It grew to the point of unbearable until he felt as though his skull would split in two from the sheer volume—

_Silence._

At first Captain Turner didn't register it.

Everyone stopped talking all at once. The slap of water stilled and the wind became a whispery hush. The only discernable noise that any of them could hear was the pained groans the _Suduffco_ continued to make. The darkness persisted in between the crash of lightning but the lights were still failing them. They flickered unsteadily, sometimes going out for longer moments before coming back on again, weaker than before.

Captain Turner looked over the faces in the pale lighting. He jumped when someone behind him shouted and he whirled to face the windows. The skies above were clear, the sprinkling of stars just barely visible.

"We're in the eye," someone to his left muttered, awed. The moment of peace passed when lightning flickered in the surrounding clouds began to change, at closer intervals until night seemed to become day almost constantly. And the colour…

"It's green? That's not natural—Captain, have you ever seen anything like this?"

He stared, mesmerized, barely aware that he was shaking his head but no one was truly paying attention to him.

"That's not good. That doesn't look right," he heard another voice breaking the tension from behind him but the words felt distant and tinny. The _Suduffco_ was the one who broke through his thoughts, giving off a pained, metallic groan and shuddering heavily beneath them all. He sucked in a breath, knowing it was now or never to issue his final orders, before anything worse fell upon them.

"Abandon ship. We need to get to the lifeboats before it's too late. Grab what supplies you can and get there, now—"

Searing light interrupted him, bright and green and he fell over his own words, startled.

 _Green?_ He thought, his thoughts whirling rapidly through his head. _But lightning isn't green…it can't be. They're right, this is unnatural._

His thoughts were scattered when he felt someone tugging harshly on his arm, someone shouting his name and trying to get him to leave. The others were already gone, fleeing at his orders. He snatched his arm back and turned to face whoever it was that was left. It was his youngest deckhand, Jeremy McGuire, looking fearful and wide-eyed. He tried to rouse his captain's attention once more, but Turner shook his head.

"Go on, lad. Get out of here."

"But Sir, I—"

"Cap'n's orders. Go. I'll stay."

A light of understanding streaked across his face and lingered in his wide hazel eyes.

"I…but…"

"Cap'n goes down with his ship. Tradition, as it were. Go, lad."

Jeremy wavered, looking ready to stay, but he nodded at last and his reluctance broke. He staggered along the constantly shifting deck, making for the door and disappearing from sight. Captain Turner's eyes lingered upon the empty doorway for a long time before he turned back to face the view outside just in time to see a bolt of green lightning strike the deck of the _S.S. Suduffco_.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The _Little Black Flag_ tour boat wasn't holding out well. The engine was in danger of constant flooding and the passengers were huddled in the alcove by the little serving bar. There was a tiny bathroom, but no cabin that could serve to hold guests inside it, just the engine room below. They held onto whatever purchase was available to them. Any attempts at staying dry were impossible. Water kept climbing higher and higher, spraying them all from every direction.

Thatcher kept trying to return to their original heading, but the choppy seas were making it next to impossible to maintain it. The waves were growing higher and turning into mountainous walls of water. The dark skies had caught up to them, rumbling low and dangerously. The winds picked up and howled through every crevice it could get through. Then the rains started up, spattering down upon them without mercy.

Jeffrey clung to the railing as he made the arduous journey up to the wheelhouse where Thatcher manned the wheel. Tension riddled the older man's frame as he attempted to handle the situation as best he could.

"How much farther are we?"

Thatcher shook his head at the inquiry.

"We're way off course. This storm is keeping us from getting where we need to go, never mind an emergency landing somewhere else. It came out of nowhere!"

True enough, it seemed as though it had moved quickly, as though hunting like a predator. And even now, in the midst of the frothing waters, it almost seemed as though they were being played with. But storms don't just come out of nowhere, they just _didn't_. Not like _this_ , at least. It was impossible.

_Yet, here we are. We don't even know how close or how far away we are to an island, any island._

Jeffrey had sailed and swam these waters all his life. He knew them quite well. He knew they were in the northern half of the Bahamas. He knew that some islands were so tiny they couldn't be properly marked out on large scaled maps. Only in-depth surrounding areas could do so. He turned to Thatcher, realization dawning on him as it came to him that he did know where they were. The tempest overhead was just messing with his head, turning him around.

"Try and see if we can't head southwest a little more, I think we might find some shelter there," he shouted to the captain. Thatcher gritted his teeth, glowering at the other man with burning dark eyes.

"Don't you think I'm trying?"

"Try harder, dammit, we've got to get these people and ourselves to safety!" A pause ensued as thunder roared overhead. "Have you tried the authorities by any chance?"

Thatcher shook his head. "First thing I tried, no luck. See if you can't tune in on the frequency, I'm a little busy, as you can see."

Jeffrey stumbled over to the other side of the tiny cabin, scrabbling at the handset and began working the dials beside Thatcher. He could barely hear the squeal of static above the howl of the wind. At one point, he thought he heard a voice but it faded away and no matter what he did, he couldn't get it back. Exasperated, he shouted at the damned thing until Thatcher told him to calm down and get the others up in the wheelhouse with him.

"I don't want to lose any of them to this storm. I think I saw an island when the waves were low, maybe we can moor there until this passes. Shouldn't be too long until then. Anything will be better than this."

Thatcher commenced on working with his heading, while Jeffrey started back down to gather his group. He was hit with a barrage of water that slammed him into a metal bulkhead for his troubles. Pain flared all across his skull, and he tumbled the rest of the way down, his body aching and his vision swimming. He managed to latch onto the staircase banister at the last moment before being washed away. His whole body hurt but his head throbbed worse than everything else and his vision swam for a long time. Hands immediately groped at him, pulling him into the relative safety of the alcove beneath the wheelhouse. He heard voices struggling against the noise of the storm, asking if he was all right, how badly he was hurt and he waved them away.

"Up—up to the…cabin. Get up there. Now," he relayed, and hands were once more grabbing hold to pull him to his feet, but he was less disoriented and could somewhat walk on his own. He motioned for them to go up, waiting for the last to pass him by before following on their heels. Lightning was filling the dark void, illuminating their ever-shifting surroundings. But it was all wrong, he noted offhandedly, as people started to file inside the cramped wheelhouse. It was… _green_.

Lightning wasn't green, was it? It couldn't be. That wasn't possible.

Yet, that was what he could see, flashes of green spitting out of the skies and slashing through the waters not far from them. Dazzling displays of the unusually hued lightning continued, until a horrible apprehension began creeping up on him.

_It's coming closer. Christ above, it's coming closer to us, it's—_

The thought cut short as another flash rammed itself into the waters not far from the _Little Black Flag_ , and a geyser of seawater erupted in response, but it all seemed so wrong in those precious few seconds. The boat tumbled, flipping and then he was surrounded by black waters, the boat gone and he was alone in the darkness.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The _Pearl_ had disappeared from his sights long ago. At first, it had been all he wanted, all he could see. When the storm descended upon them, his attention appropriately switched to the direr situation at hand. He had more power to spare than that of the little tub of a ship Sparrow had escaped upon, but it didn't matter much. The _Black Pearl_ was faster, simply put. She had speed on the _H.M.S. Dauntless_ , and could easily outrun the warship and any one of her weaponry at hand as well. That much he would concede to the pirate. And according to Elizabeth, the _Black Pearl_ had run down the _H.M.S. Interceptor_ without many troubles, even with a lead for the latter.

 _And now this hurricane_ , he lamented. As much as he fancied capturing Jack Sparrow, he valued his men's lives more. They made port at a humble sugar plantation on Cat Island. The owner was representative of the prestigious Beckford family. The son was currently away in London, a rather heated but respected politician, whilst he had trusted hands to maintain his family's plantation. He and his men waited out the squall to pass on, as their host scrabbled about to accommodate for all the mouths he had to feed and shelter. But the man seemed happy nonetheless, to have men of the King's Royal Navy grace the property. It would reflect well upon him, and good news to send back to its current property owner.

At first, there was relief at garnering a break. They had chased the pirate Jack Sparrow all over the Caribbean, who had led them on a merry chase hither and thither. Then that relief turned to antsy anxiety, an itch to get moving again. The storm seemed to linger longer than it was welcome for. They lost a few days in their chase, and even Norrington was beginning to wear thin in his patience.

He was the cat and Jack Sparrow was, well…a little sparrow. He was a little, annoying bird that constantly mocked him, just out of reach. And now he was fluttering further and further away, and soon he'd be out of reach if they didn't catch a break in this weather.

At long last, however, nearly a week later, the clouds began to pull apart, allowing feeble but welcome sunlight to greet them. The ships were prepped and soon they were underway with as much grace as they could allow. Much thanks and payment was allotted to the plantation holder for allowing the men to stay, and a promise of further compensation would be well underway.

He simply hoped that the storm had slowed Sparrow down enough that he too would have been forced to make berth somewhere and hunker down until the storm had passed.

Even he couldn't have been insane enough to sail through a tempest.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

They had tried their best, but even the _Black Pearl_ wasn't fast enough to outrun an oncoming storm. It fell upon them in the night when it was darkest and blotted out the stars and moon from sight. The seas pitched hard, the inky darkness of the waves tossing the ship to and fro at hill peaks and valley floors of water. Jack refused to give the wheel to anyone but himself. Gibbs recognized the manic giddiness in the man. He realized that even if they were in the storm, they were putting distance between themselves and Norrington.

Most men remained below on standby, while the rest were keeping steady the lines and sheets above, ready to reef the sails or drop them down. But Jack was determined to keep the sails all out. Gibbs knew the man was mad, but this? He managed his way back up to the quarterdeck, the question on his lips even when he knew the possible answer to it.

"We're getting further away! The winds are more in our favour than in theirs!" The response would have made sense if they weren't about to be torn asunder by a blasted hurricane and Gibbs said as much before adding, "We need to reef the sails or we'll risk losing all the masts!"

"She can hold a bit longer, Mister Gibbs; you haven't sailed on the _Pearl_ like I 'ave, I know her better than you do!"

Reassurances or not, Gibbs reminded himself that this man was mad and hadn't set foot upon the _Pearl_ for nearly ten years. Yet, he was the same man who had sailed the _Interceptor_ straight through a hurricane just to catch up to the _Pearl_ when it was Barbossa who had sailed her. Of course he would use the same advantage to _lose_ another ship and her captain.

Hard sheets of water were slapping at them from the skies while the seas around them continued to churn angrily, threatening to capsize the _Pearl_ at any moment. Jack kept a steady hand on his ship, and Gibbs held onto the banister for dear life. Lightning flashed all around them and the skies growled low and harsh. The cacophony alone was enough to worry a poor soul, never mind the raging sea that was ready to toss them without a second thought.

Another wave slammed into the _Black Pearl_ 's side, and Gibbs swore he heard a scream before it was cut off suddenly, and a shout rang out, confirming his suspicions.

" _Man overboard!_ "

Gibbs turned back toward the captain.

"Jack—"

"I heard, there's nothing can be done; leave 'im. We 'ave our own skins t' worry 'bout right now."

Gibbs only nodded, although there was a pang of guilt lingering despite his understanding. The man was doomed. They couldn't simply turn around and scoop him up out of the water in this inclement weather. It would doom the rest of the crew and the ship. He had seen many a man sink beneath the waves because of the cruelty of the sea's rage. Besides, no one man was missing him, except for perhaps his helping hands, but another was already moving into his spot, picking up the slack.

They would find out whom it was that had fallen soon enough and they would hang their heads in silence for a moment or two, if they could spare it.

The night dragged on, and the dark hours seemed to grow longer as no sign of dawn showed itself. But all things came to an end, good or bad. The great waves that had tossed them about like a wooden toy began to ease. The hard sheets of rain that had pelted them over the night slackened and the winds that had howled so loudly lessened to a bearable breeze. The charcoal black clouds lightened up until they were a dove grey, and eventually broke apart in tatters. The sun peaked through them occasionally, weak and tired, but ready to chug on and give the pirates some hope.

At long last, however, the clouds fell away, and the sun grew in strength, beating down upon them and drying up everything its warm rays could reach. Despite the exhaustion that riddled them all, there was elation as well. They were clear of the storm, the seas were at last calm, and of course, there was no sign of Norrington and his fleet of merry little lobsters. Gibbs laughed in spite of himself. Jack, that crazy bastard, had done it again.

The _Pearl_ would sail on for another day.

He somewhat pitied Norrington and his men, but the moment passed and he stumbled below decks to send those who had found little rest to relieve those still topside. The pattering of bare feet and boots clattering up and down the staircase barely registered to Gibbs. He rolled into a hammock, still damp from the storm, but he didn't mind. His eyes were already closed as he fell asleep, deserving of a good rest after enduring no sleep during the night. If Jack needed him, he knew where Gibbs would be.

He barely heard the shouts above declaring something was off to the starboard side of the _Pearl_ nor felt the ship as it changed direction to see what it was.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And the pieces are falling into place.**


	3. Unexpected Unions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO** ****  
__  
_“I just know, before this is over, I'm gonna need a whole lot of serious therapy. Look at my eye twitchin’.”_  
**– Donkey, "** __ **Shrek** **"**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

She awoke sore all over and with a pounding headache that seemed to grow worse the more aware of her surroundings she became. She was lying down at an angle against a hard surface, and the first sound she was truly aware of was the gentle slap of water against something solid.

_No wonder I’m in pain. What am I sleeping on, a rock?_

Bish sat up slowly, her body shrieking in agony at the simple effort and she had to pause long enough to make her vision stop swimming. She pressed a hand to her head, closing her eyes and concentrated on her breathing to ensure she wouldn’t throw up. When she trusted her body not to give out on her, she managed to pull herself up a little more but stopped almost immediately.

This wasn’t her hotel room. Nor was it a tour bus. The memories began to trickle back in, and as she gazed around her, horror began to creep up on her.

_There was a storm….it wasn’t there one minute and the next…what the hell happened to us?_

Everything was still hazy, a kaleidoscope of colours, sights, sounds. It had been a sensory overload and she couldn’t quite process it all out into a cohesive line of events. She did recollect that most of the people had been on the staircase, trying to get inside the one shelter that was actually worth a damn. If Lupin hadn’t led her with the rest of the group, she would most likely have died. She remembered just wanting to stay where she was, to not move and maybe she’d be okay. But her friend had been adamant and practically dragged her up the staircase. The boat had flipped into the water just after they had gone into the wheelhouse with the tour boat captain. She remembered being thrown against the hard walls, the water surging inside the open doorway, and then they had gone right side up again. Another wave had righted them and the up and down sensation had continued.

When the boat had flipped into the water and then back again, almost all of them had washed away. A majority of the water had receded from the wheelhouse, but it hadn’t stopped the flooding in the first place. It was that moment she realized she was alone in the wheelhouse, in the dim shadows, with nothing but the noise of the sea around her. Dread filled her gut and soured the back of her throat.

_Lupin…Loopy was with me. She was here inside with me, though, she was there with me after, I remember…_

Shaky hands pushed her up and she walked on wobbly, aching legs, moving toward the stairwell to the main deck. It was bright outside, the sun beating cheerfully down on the boat. It was early morning, judging from the sun’s position and the sky’s soft, multi-coloured lighting. It cast everything in a despicably happy pall, like a storm hadn’t just come through to ruin her vacation. Shielding her eyes, she was glad to realize, rather belatedly, that her glasses had somehow managed to survive the whole ordeal. She set to work on cleaning them, trying to still her trembling hands.

“Loopy?” She called, squinting into the harsh sunlight. All around her, dazzling blue waters greeted her. The boat was at an angle, she noticed off the bat, as she treaded across the deck to the gunwale. The metal was hot to the touch, so she refrained from placing her hands on it. Just beneath the water’s surface, she could see a rocky outcropping beneath them, effectively beaching the _Little Black Flag_ tour boat in the middle of nowhere with water on all sides. How wonderful! Stranded, alone, and not a drop of water to drink! That’s _exactly_ the way she wanted to die.

“ _Loopy!_ ”

“What!”

Bish spun, startled and her heart set to racing. Lupin was there, bedecked in her jeans and black tank top, watching the other woman. A sheepish smile crossed her features.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” she offered, looking abashed at her.

“You _asshole_! You left me in there _all alone!_ I thought you were gone, I thought—I thought—”

“Sorry. When I saw you breathing and nothing looked broken, I didn’t want to wake you just yet. I, uh…had to move something.”

“Like _what_? What could you _possibly_ have that needed moving?”

Bish crossed her arms. Now she was more upset than scared. It was a nicer change of pace. At least if she was angry, she had some semblance of control. Lupin rubbed the back of her head, avoiding Bish’s gaze.

“Our dearly deceased captain.” She rubbed at her arm, her lips drawn into a thin, tight line. “I didn’t think you’d want to wake up next to a dead body. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Sorry.”

The Guatemalan woman stared at her friend, flabbergasted. Her jaw dropped and she scrutinized Lupin’s face for a moment longer before blurting, “Are you fucking serious?”

“If I was a scout, I’d say something about eagle honour and whatnot, but I’m not, so…” Lupin offered another embarrassed, nervous smile that belied her own jittery nerves. “And yes, I’m serious. It looks like he smashed his head pretty good against the glass. And he wasn’t moving or breathing. I tried to wake him up when I came to, but…I think he broke his neck or something and…well.”

Lupin trailed off, her face shrouded with guilt.

“This wasn’t exactly the vacation I had in mind when I wanted to come down here. I’m…I’m sorry, Bish.”

Bishquet continued to stare, watching her friend’s face morph to a crestfallen expression and immediately the vexed part of her vanished. She stepped closer and pulled the small woman into a tight embrace and Lupin returned it, her fingers digging into the back of Bish’s shirt.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not like you called up the storm and said, ‘Hey, can you fuck up my vacation while I’m down in your area, ‘kay thanks, bye’. You can’t control the weather, you know that, hun. Just…don’t beat yourself up over this. Please.”

She felt Lupin bob her head in a nod against her shoulder and after another moment, they released, stepping away again. Lupin expelled a heavy sigh and glanced around them.

“So…now we have to figure out where we are…and try to get help. Think this thing has an emergency lifeboat?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Help me look. And let’s try and see if we can salvage some supplies while we’re at it.”

The Hispanic woman gave a mock salute to her friend’s backside as Lupin retreated toward the mini-bar area. “Aye, aye captain, ma’am.”

Lupin grinned and turned away, moving across the sloped deck carefully. Bish frowned, eyeing the other woman’s footwear momentarily. “You’re wearing steel-toed combat boots. Aren’t you uncomfortable in those yet?”

Lupin only waved at her over her shoulder without looking back. It was answer enough.

This was a question Bish had posed to her friend several times in their vacation, but the answer always seemed to be the same: no, they weren’t, and they felt more practical than tennis shoes or sandals. Even in the Caribbean heat, she seemed more at home in a pair of boots than anything else. Now looking at her own choice of footwear, however, Bish wished she’d at least worn a pair of sneakers, especially now. Her painted toenails glinted in the cheerful sunlight and despite the pretty look she was showing off, she was going to end up stubbing her feet or worse. Her own sandals weren’t going to last long and her feet were going to get sunburned.

She followed after her friend’s more surefooted path, jumping slightly when the wind blew across the deck and the boat creaked and shuddered in response. Bish froze on the spot, waiting, her heartrate slightly elevated at the suddenness of movement.

“Is…is this thing _stable_? Like, we’re not gonna fall overboard and into the water or anything?”

“So far, it seems pretty stable to me,” Lupin called over her shoulder. “I had to drag a dead man down the steps. That should have rocked the boat more than a little bit of wind.”

Despite the casualness of her words, Bish could detect the slight hitch in her friend’s voice. It was minor and uneven, and she almost missed it, but she heard the wobble there regardless.

“Let’s just check to see if we can’t get into these cabinets, okay?”

Bish only nodded, following after her friend. It turned out the cabinets were locked up tight, and needed a key to be unlocked.

“I’ll check down below. How about you check the wheelhouse,” Lupin offered, glancing back toward the door that led to the engine room. Bish looked back there as well, blandly nodding at first before realizing that was also where Lupin had most likely stored their captain’s body. She felt a cold shudder roll down her spine at the thought. She was a little guilty when she believed it better for her friend than herself to go in there. She didn’t know what she’d do if she saw the man’s body. He had only been alive just a few…hours ago? A day ago? She wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

They parted ways, Lupin stepping into the cool, quiet darkness of the engine room while Bish adjourned to the wheelhouse. She shivered at the sight of the broken viewing glass. She could see faint traces of pink in the cracks. Her stomach roiled at the sight, and she had to turn away to avoid heaving what little she had left in it. She hurriedly busied herself with checking the dash, only finding a switchboard filled with alien knobs, buttons, levers, and switches that operated the _Little Black Flag_. Some were clearly marked, either with letters or symbols, but others were blank. Any drawers or hidden cabinets that were there yielded no keys of any sort. There was no sign of any sort of lifeboat, either. After a time, she heard Lupin tromping up the staircase to meet up with her. She had nothing in her hands, except for a worn toolbox and a crowbar.

“Nothing. Jeffrey might have had the keys, since he was the one helping serve us stuff the other day,” she sighed dejectedly. Her gaze slipped away and out toward the sea. “I still can’t believe that everyone…I mean, everything was just fine and then that storm came out of nowhere. You’d think something like that would be taken into account for safety measures. Like an emergency fallback plan or island to go to in case of inclement weather.”

Bish shifted uncomfortably on her feet at the comment. She could only nod at it, agreeing as much. She looked to the items in her friend’s hands and switched the subject.

“So, I’m guessing you’re going to try and MacGyver your way into the cabinets?”

“Hopefully, yeah. If I can break in, we’ll have drinks and food for a little while. Hey, how about we try getting the boat started? I think the tide’s coming in, maybe we can get off these rocks.”

The Hispanic woman shook her head, turning back to the switchboard filled with coloured bulbs, switches and buttons with a puzzled frown.

“This doesn’t exactly look like a car, Loopy. Do you even know how to start up a boat?”

“Well…my stepdad has one when he goes fishing. He taught me a little bit, but I’ve never had a chance to drive one, per say. Let’s see…” Lupin came around, examining everything, then motioned toward a pair of dangling keys on the far side of the dashboard. She gave it a twist. The boat sputtered in response, the engine rumbling beneath them tiredly. It spat and coughed, trying to turn over, but it died suddenly and fell quiet. She tried turning it over again, but the same results continued for several minutes. Bish groaned miserably.

“Great. The food and drinks are locked away, the engine’s busted, and we’re stranded with no help on the way.” She paused, then realized what she’d said. “Don’t all ships have radios? Can we call for help?”

Lupin snapped her fingers—or attempted, anyway. She never was that talented at small, trivial actions like that. She couldn’t even properly whistle. She wagged her hands at the stress she caused them in the end, grimacing. Then she pointed to another switchboard beside the wheel, where a dispatcher radio sat. The cord and microphone laid haphazardly across the dash.

“See if you can’t get it going. Let me try to get into the cabinets.”

“Just get on it. New captain’s orders,” she joked back. Bishquet mock saluted her and turned back to the radio, her hands on her hips.

Now she had a new object to conquer and she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The heat was unbearable, soaking into his flesh and muscles, down all the way into his very bones. It was oppressive and unwilling to release its hold upon them, keeping them from being able to move very much for too long without the cost of massive amounts of energy being spent. Mouths all around felt thick and dry, like cotton had been stuffed in and was soaking up all the moisture. What they wouldn’t give for a little rain, a little drizzle even, to relieve their parched and tight throats, and to cool them down as well. The man with the broken leg didn’t last very long, even with help in splinting his leg. The stress and shock of the storm, the escape, and endless drifting had finally taken their toll. He passed away quietly in his sleep, no longer able to whimper about his broken limb. Those still alive in the lifeboat said their piece and clumsily tossed him out. The more room there was for them, all the better. It wouldn’t do to be tempted in eating a corpse by keeping it in there with them.

What little supplies they had even grabbed was gone within the first day, however. It wasn’t enough to feed two people, let alone five remaining mouths. They had lost one of the oars in the midst of their escape and only one remained. Occasionally, someone would steer with it, but without any others, they hadn’t had much luck in getting closer to any land worth a spit. The sun continued on, unaware and uncaring to the woes of the lives drifting in the cramped longboat. It would rise and fall without fail.

Edward glanced at his brother through slit lidded eyes, his lips cracked and aching as the sea around the boat mocked them. It was wet but filled with salt and was unsustainable to them. He would have preferred lake water to these dregs. At least he could drink it more readily than the salty water around him. It was only made worse by how beautiful the sea around them was, how crystal clear the waters were, showing off all the colourful fish that swam beneath them. They were so close, yet so far out of reach. It was a shame they had no tools to craft a proper spear or net; they could have had some food then.

Alphonse’s eyes were clamped shut, an arm over his face to block out the bright rays that beat down on him. He had stripped of his long coat and waistcoat, his shirt unbuttoned in an attempt to keep cool, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. A part of Edward envied him, being unable to strip of his own clothing beyond his shirt. He didn’t even dare to take off his gloves. Not even here, not even on the brink of dehydration amongst the other crew members who were barely cohesive and conscious. If they were rescued, he couldn’t risk their self-appointed saviors to see his automail. It would lead to one too many questions and prodding inquiries that could eventually lead to unwanted attention.

So he sat there, baking in the muggy heat, wiping uselessly at his brow and neck of sweat that dribbled all along his skin and soaked his clothes. He lolled his head over to glance around them, a cursory search across the waters to see if they were close to any islands, land, or ships. Nothing was forthcoming. That hope was growing dimmer, although his anger at this entire debacle still glowed like hot embers. It was hard to let go of such a mistake. Alphonse shifted beside him, lugging himself into a more upright position to check on the other three men. Edward stirred after a heartbeat or two of watching, deciding it was better to help out than to stew uselessly on the bench. The first two were alive and mostly well, if only dehydrated and hungry. The third was not so lucky. He was breathing shallowly and his skin was clammy to the touch, but ruddy red and flushed all over. He wasn’t even sweating any more. The man was incoherent and kept muttering delirious half-words while his eyes were dull and vacant.

The other two were roused at the distressed curse Edward muttered when he pulled away from checking him.

“We’ve got to find a way to cool him down. Somebody, get his feet up—Al, see if we can’t get a rag and wet it, the water’s cooler than he is right now.”

Despite their best efforts, the man slowly slipped away in increasing fits of delirium. It was only made worse when he began crying for his family, especially for his mother and siblings in a thick, inaudible voice. By nightfall, he was gone, seizing up before stilling for good. He too was cast over the side of the longboat after a few words were given by his crewmates. The sharks fed well that night and continued to circle the longboat long after the corpse was devoured, hoping for another easy meal. Occasionally they would bump the boat or slap it with their fins, startling the passengers.

The darkness of the night air was not much of a respite, but it was better than being scorched by the sun’s offensive rays.

By morning, the heat rose quickly with the sun, setting everything aflame again. It baked away at the stranded survivors. Edward felt the discomfort eat away at him and he was once again poaching in his own sweat, starving for a bite to eat, and sip of a beverage to drink. He was disturbed from his thoughts when the longboat began to rock and one of the other men had dunked himself into the clear waters.

“Jeremy!”

Alphonse pushed himself upright and looked over the side of the longboat, gaping at the young man paddling beside the boat. “Jeremy, what are you doing? Get out of there!”

The young man shook his head fervently, even when the other survivor of the _Suduffco_ began shouting obscenities at Jeremy to get back into the longboat. His movements were slow and clumsy, but determined. He splashed away, and the remaining three hurled themselves into action. Their nameless companion snatched up the remaining oar and began pumping it through the water, digging deep furrows while the other two used their hands to try and aid from the opposite side of the longboat. Jeremy’s sluggish movements made it that much easier to pull up alongside him, giving his older counterpart an opportunity to reach down and snatch up the young man by his collar. He kicked and struggled, screaming all the while like a child, as he was grabbed by the Elric brothers to help him back inside. They helped reel him in, sopping wet and sobbing.

“I can’t—I can’t do this, please just let me go—we’re not going to make it…I’d rather die in the water than in this stinking boat, _please_ —”

“Stop it! That’s no way to think right now, we should be close to an island, so think damn it! You’ve sailed in this area before, haven’t you?” Edward snarled, glowering at Jeremy.

“Once,” Jeremy sniffled, glancing at the other sailor. His weathered face was grim and severe as he regarded the younger man, his molten hazel eyes simmering in the relative quiet. Jeremy’s gaze flicked over to the Elric brothers, lingering on Alphonse, who offered an exhausted yet sympathetic smile. “J-just once. It’s…it’s been a while, but…I-I think we’re close to Haiti, maybe? O-or…Jamaica. No, wait that’s not right, I can’t remember, I…”

He balled up against a bench then, holding his head and shaking it. Edward wrinkled his nose, scoffing quietly in spite of the reproachful look his brother gave him.

“Useless,” he muttered, squinting as he glanced out across the horizon. He winced when he ran his tongue over his dried, cracked lips. They stung at the action and he tasted the faint tinge of blood on his tongue. Alphonse was quietly comforting the young sailor, while the other had hunkered down in his own little corner.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you?”

“Of course I do. We’re caught in a current that’s taking us further out toward the Atlantic. Your trip to Europe is happening whether or not we like it. Looks to me you’ll be getting your wish after all,” he answered back with a derisive snort. He glanced at Edward from the corner of his eye and scratched at the grizzled beard decorating his face. “We’ll be dead within another day or so. Adrift at sea was not a fate I was hoping for as an end to my life. I believe our fair captain had a more merciful death than we are to expect for ourselves. The sea is not kind to the reckless and unprepared, boy. I suggest you remember that in the little time we have left.”

Cloud cover moved in later that morning, providing an inkling of relief from the sun’s rays, but not from the heat. The day continued to crawl by. Alphonse and Edward didn’t give up keeping a lookout for land, any spit of land that could provide them a relief from the doldrums of the sea surrounding them. Night finally came around again, marking their third day at sea. The heat was beginning to get to them, even with the complete relief from the sun.

Edward was beginning to feel the last of his strength flagging. His metal limbs had struck again. He didn’t have the same amount of blood nor water retention in his body as a normal person. He was more surprised that he hadn’t succumbed to the heat sooner. This was not a test to the strength of his will; nature would claim them all if they didn’t find land or get rescued soon. The thought clamoured about in his head even as he dozed off in a stupor from heat and exhaustion.

The horizon was ablaze with rich, soft colours when he opened his eyes next. His head lolled when he turned to glance at his brother. He was breathing, if shallowly, but he was alive. When he turned to glance over at the other two sailors, he stopped short when he only saw the older one. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. There was no trace of him left in the boat. Their remaining companion, however, was slumped over and limp, his skin chalky grey and clammy to the touch. Edward reached out to shake him, but found his arm difficult to lift and trembling at the mere gesture. His attempts only disturbed the body of their nameless companion. The body slumped over further, graceless and stiff.

“Al…Alphonse,” he called, pushing himself upright and hating how weak and tired he was. Even his tongue wasn’t working the right way, it felt thick and unyielding. His gut was continuing to gnaw on itself, cramping painfully as he moved. Alphonse stirred, peeping blearily at Edward with glazed, tired eyes. His face was flushed, but there was barely any sheen of sweat to him. The gentle lapping of water had never seemed so sweet to his ears. It was almost tempting to turn around to scoop it up and gulp it down. But the klaxons were still in place, warning him away from doing any such thing; even he knew seawater was deadly to consume, and the salty brine was just one piece of a long laundry list on why he shouldn’t.

Alphonse reached for Edward and managed to grab at his brother’s sleeve. He entwined his fingers into the material, holding on tightly. His hand was shaking as he tugged as hard as he could on Edward’s sleeve.

“Brother…look.”

Edward blinked sluggishly, not understanding at first. Alphonse gave a shaky nod beyond. The elder Elric finally turned his head and even that felt like an effort, especially with the raging headache he’d been sporting for the past few days. He looked over his shoulder and didn’t quite grasp what was he was looking at for a few moments. It was a ship, but it didn’t look right. It was tiny and white, almost lost on the horizon.

_I must be hallucinating. It’s almost glowing._

The thought was there and gone again, borne on dizzied delirium. The heat was playing tricks on his eyes, he decided, shimmering on the water and blinding him on occasion. Every once in a while, the ship would disappear entirely from sight. But then it would return, closer than before until he could see the foam churning up as it slapped against its white hull. Its snowy white hull gleamed in the bright sunlight, and yes, it did almost seem to be glowing. And he could just make out words written on her bow, but for the life of him, he couldn’t read what they said. The letters were jumbled and mixed, playing nonsense on his mind. Next to the letters, he could make out a square shape of black with white markings. It was vaguely familiar, on the tip of his tongue, but it escaped him.

He thought he heard a voice as well, calling out to him. A figure appeared at the bow of the little white ship, short and dark-haired and…she looked like his mother. He reached for her, feeling a strange lightness in his body as he did. It felt so much easier now than before.

Perhaps their emergency S.O.S had gotten out before the _Suduffco_ sank after all…

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Holy shit, is that what I think it is?”

“Gee, I dunno what you think it is. Are you thinking it’s the _Titanic_? I hate to be the one to break it to you, but that ship sank a long time ago.”

Bish glowered mildly at her friend’s cheeky remark, but instead of taking the bait, redirected her attention back. She jabbed her index finger out to the starboard side of the _Little Black Flag_ for emphasis.

“That. Right out there, that thing. It looks like a-a-a thing, what’s it called—lifeboat! That’s it, lifeboat.” She frowned, squinting her eyes as it drifted nearer their way. “It’s…weird looking though. Do lifeboats look even like that anymore?”

Lupin gave that pause and stepped out onto the deck and toward the gunwale to get a little closer. She scrunched her face up and narrowed her eyes, staring out at the bobbing craft for a long time. All the while, the lifeboat was drifting ever closer. When she stiffened up ramrod straight, Bish jerked in response.

“What?”

Lupin didn’t answer at first, her eyes widening and her mouth agape.

“Is it just me or…” she trailed off, hesitating for only a heartbeat, “Does it look like that lifeboat’s speeding up?”

She kept her gaze trained on the bobbing little lifeboat, and Bish turned hers to watch as well. At first, she believed it to be a trick of her eyes, but no. No, it wasn’t. The lifeboat was speeding up.

“Is it motorized?”

“I don’t think so, I can’t see an engine on the back. It looks old. Like you said, _Titanic_ old. I’m not joking. I mean, look at it! And I can see people in there.”

The Hispanic woman was looking, and that was what scared her. Her friend was right. It had no engine, no motor, but it was creating enough of a wake in its trek toward them. She skittered over to Lupin, her hands vice grips as she grabbed the gunwale.

“Uh…Lupin? That thing’s…getting really close now. Do you think we should run or hide? Something other than standing here and gawking—oh holy fuck!”

Bish shrieked as the boat bounced several times on the smooth surface of the water, each time higher than the last. The frothing seawater beneath it writhed, and just before she turned away to scuttle to safety, she realized that there was something _alive_ beneath the lifeboat. Lupin darted after her and together they dove behind the relative safety of the little bar. The two of them hunkered down just as the _Little Black Flag_ shuddered and moaned as the lifeboat crashed into her. Seawater washed up all over the deck, filling up whatever space it could. Lupin hurriedly picked up her bag she had sitting on the floor, while Bish plucked a screwdriver from the open toolbox beside them.

They waited, their breaths held and bodies tense, until everything stopped rocking and the noise had filtered down again. Lupin yelped when sometime scuttled past them. She got a glimpse of something small and flat with one too many legs and her first thought was spider. Then she did a double take, morbid curiousity grabbing hold of her. The little thing scurried away, but it wasn’t a spider. It was a crab. But how did a crab get up on the deck?

The smaller woman picked herself up carefully, standing just in time to see the aftermath subsiding from the _Little Black Flag_. Crabs were scrambling over one another, flooding over the gunwale. The noise of their little legs scratching against shells and the ship filled the air, replacing the seething of the water. They gaped at the sight, not even taking note of the lifeboat that was now occupying the deck of the bow until all the little sea creatures had fled.

A few odd ones had been left behind, legs kicking in the air useless as they wobbled on their backsides. Lupin and Bish crept toward the lifeboat, their attention now drawn to it. There were three bodies inside, one completely still, grey, and lifeless. The other two were flushed and panting, but clearly unconscious and alive.

Half a heartbeat passed before Lupin skittered forward, kicking a crab in her wake and sending it spinning out of sight. Shaking hands pressed against the first passenger’s brow, and she hissed between clenched teeth at how hot he felt, but there wasn’t any sweat on his skin.

“Ana,” she said, her voice shaking and her heart throbbing painfully in her throat. How was he still _alive_? Bishquet blinked at her friend. Rarely did Lupin ever call her by her legal name. The gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in as she surveyed the situation. She knew what needed to be done, but her body wasn’t listening to what her mind already knew what needed to get done.

“Yeah?”

“I need you to help me. Check the other guy out.”

Bish hesitated. She glanced at the third man in the lifeboat. Despite his appearances, she didn’t want to risk letting someone die.

“What about him?”

Lupin herself was afraid to peel herself away from someone who was barely alive to check on a most likely dead body. She shed her reluctance and stumbled over towards the limp man lying on his side. He was cold to the touch and his skin wasn’t just grey, it was discoloured and dark on the side he was lying on and he was beginning to smell. Hurriedly, she snatched her hand away with a disgusted shudder.

“He’s dead,” she announced, earning a revolted noise in reply from her friend. She turned back to the first man—blond and young and rather sunburnt—but she stopped herself short, her fingers inches away from touching him again. A wave of familiarity with his face came crashing over her. She glanced at the one Bish was working with and made a motion to her friend to stop.

“Push his hair back and look at his face.”

Bish blinked, taken aback. She glanced down at the sodden mop of dirty-blond hair in front of her. “Lupin, I don’t think now’s the time to be checking them out, look at them, they’re—”

“Bish, I’m not checking them out like _that_ , just— _look at him_!”

She carefully pushed back the blond hair of the man she was beside. Bish sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. “ _Holy shit_. Is that who I _think_ it is?”

“Either that, or he’s a _really_ good cosplay enthusiast. I-I have no idea what’s going on, but we definitely just—this is weird. I’m a little freaked out right now.”

Lupin moved to get her arms under the blond man’s, and carefully stood. He was heavier than expected and she sagged when she tried to stand up and drag him out. Bish moved to help her and together, they managed to get him out of the lifeboat and onto the _Little Black Flag_ ’s deck. The Hispanic woman panted with exertion, her arms and back trembling.

“Hun, I don’t think I can hold him much longer, my back is gonna give if we don’t move. Where do you want him?”

“The shade. Upstairs, in the wheelhouse.”

“You want to take them _up_ the stairs?”

“Yes, it’s enclosed, they’re suffering from heat stroke or exhaustion or-or _something_. Let’s hurry it up!”

They managed to get the first one up the stairs, although Bish was slow going in coming back down for the second. Her back was already suffering from the abuse of sleeping on an uncomfortable surface and the punishment from the storm’s careless tossing. But she sucked it up long enough to drag the second young man up the stairs before collapsing in the shade of the wheelhouse. At least he was smaller in frame and lighter to boot. She leant up against the wall, trying to calm her breathing as her muscles throbbed.

“Hun,” she panted at Lupin, who was checking over the two carefully. The other woman stopped to look at her. “Where’s my purse? I need my pain meds. Please. My back…”

Lupin nodded in understanding. Several years ago, someone had rear-ended Bish’s vehicle while at a stop sign. They hadn’t been paying attention to what they had been doing. It had done a number on Bish’s vehicle as well as her back. She would still, from time to time, visit a doctor about her back but so far the most they could do was distribute her medication to alleviate the pain.

She left and returned in a few minutes, her backpack and Bish’s purse in hand. After handing the little bag to her, Lupin began rifling through her pack and found a half-finished bottle of warm water from the other day. She shouted in success before handing it to her friend. “Here, take your meds, and then let’s try to get them to drink.”

Bish nodded. A few minutes later, she was trying to help the blond haired man to drink from the bottle. He had woken briefly, if only to mutter something incoherent before slipping back in unconsciousness. His yellow-gold eyes were glassy when they opened.

“He really looks like a no-shit real-life Edward Elric. And he looks like Alphonse. But what the hell would cosplay guys be doing all the way out in the ocean?” Bish said as she helped keep him elevated long enough to get some water dribbled into his mouth. Lupin took out a few books from her pack and elevated his feet, then moved onto the other young man.

“Cruise ship? Tour boat like us? Who knows. They probably got caught in the same storm that we did.”

“They look like shit,” Bish remarked, although not unkindly. Her brows knitted together with worry. “They aren’t gonna die, are they?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. I _don’t_ ,” Lupin snapped back, which earned her a disapproving frown from Bish. She clamped her mouth shut before she muttered a soft apology. Bish helped with the young man while Lupin elevated his feet as well. She stood in a hurry after that. “I’m gonna get into those cabinets—there might be a first aid kit in one of them. Think you can try the radio again?”

“It’s dead, hun. We can’t do anything if the boat’s dead. And our phones don’t have any signal out here, not to mention they’re almost dead too.”

Every spot of bad news seemed like another nail in the coffin. Lupin stared at the Hispanic woman, a flash of fear on her face one moment and gone the next. It was replaced by a determined and hardened resolve as she shook her head and clenched her fists. Taking in a measured breath, she said, “Just keep trying, okay? Keep an eye on them. Look around here, see if you can’t find a first aid kit in here too. You’re still CPR certified, right?”

Bish nodded. Lupin turned at that and left the wheelhouse in a flurry. Not even half a minute later, she heard her friend slamming the crowbar into the cabinets, grunting with each hit made. She was almost tempted to follow and see if the other woman would make successful progress, but she kept herself planted, trying to think of what else could help the other two.

She jumped when the blond man started muttering again, his words slurring disjointedly. Then the other one joined in, as though he heard the first’s ramblings and was trying to respond. Bish squirmed on the spot, uncomfortable at the sight. She didn’t know what to do and that alone made her feel useless. A shout from below startled her and she clambered up to her feet.

“What? What happened?”

“First aid kit! Got it! And a flare gun with about ten rounds, a whole pack of chem lights—a whole survival kit in this cabinet, it looks like!”

“What about the food and drinks?”

“Working on it!”

Another flurry of grunts and the harsh clanging of the crowbar persisted. Several minutes later, another triumphant shout arose. Lupin wasn’t long in coming back, her arms full of water bottles, packets of snacks, and dangling from one hand, a first aid kit zippered up in a large black bag.

Bish reached for the bag as Lupin dumped her burden into a pile on the ground, except for several water bottles. “We’ve gotta cool them down more. Here, put these under their armpits and against their necks, next to the arteries. Help me strip them out of those shirts.”

She wished they had ice packs, but the fridge didn’t have any. It had been filled to the brim with water, Gatorade, soda, and even several brands of alcoholic beverages including beer. Lupin had dismissed those in lieu of the other drinks. They worked on the dirty-blond haired young man first, managing to strip of his linen shirt and pressed one bottle each under his armpits. He squirmed uselessly, too weak to do much else. His glazed over eyes peeped at them, distant and unfocused. His dry, cracked bloodied lips moved but no words came forth. Lupin leaned closer.

“Easy, easy. It’s okay. We’re helping you. Stop moving, okay? Here, let’s get you up, you need some water.”

They sat him up enough so that they could dribble some water into his mouth. Most spilled down his front, but what little he did drink was better than none at all in their minds. They laid him back down gently and moved onto the other young man. Lupin glanced at Bish, nervous and reluctant. Bish nodded to her friend in encouragement.

“C’mon. Let’s get this over with.”

They moved on either side of him and began helping strip his shirt, only to stop short when his right arm came into full view. The metal limb thumped to the ground when the shirt pulled away, listless and unmoving. Lupin choked back a strangled gasp and Bish yelped.

“No fucking way—that isn’t real, that _can’t_ be real. There is no fucking way— _automail isn’t real_. Prosthetics, sure, but they’re not made of metal and they’re not that advanced. Lupin, what the _fuck_ is going on?”

“How the hell should I know?!”

They gaped at the metal arm and chest plate fused to the dehydrated young man. Neither of them made a move to venture closer for a full minute. Lupin stared long and hard at his face, trying to find some kind of discrepancy, anything that would mark him as a fraud, a fake of some kind. Edward and Alphonse Elric weren’t real, much to the disappointment of many fans worldwide. _Fullmetal Alchemist_ itself was a just fictional story, and everything and everyone in it were just as made up. This was all some kind of mirage or trick. They were seeing something that couldn’t possibly be real.

“This is some kind of dream. Or we’re dead. Or-or something.” Lupin swallowed thickly, the air suddenly feeling muggier than it had been a minute ago. With a shaking hand, she motioned for a bottle. “He still needs…still needs to get cooled down and…”

She couldn’t finish. Bish handed her a bottle without thinking, and readied another for him to drink. They moved slower this time, careful with the blond man as they lifted him upright. He struggled to keep awake, disturbed at being moved again. His head slumped back, exposing his throat. Bish helped cradle his head and he looked at her, unclear at first as he gazed up, before he slurred out, “Noa?”

Bish swallowed thickly, glanced at Lupin, then motioned to the bottle in Lupin’s hand. “Let’s hurry up.”

Lupin nodded, ignoring the glassy stare that had turned to her as she helped him with the water bottle. He managed to drink more readily than his companion, but he dribbled nearly as much down his front. When he was finished as well, they laid him back down, elevated his feet, and kept the door open to allow the cool breeze blowing to come inside. Lupin left again to fetch the rest of the items at the bar, including another backpack. A survival kit brand was sewn on the top.

They quickly went through it, cataloguing what was inside it.

“So, one flare gun with ten rounds, like you mentioned, along with three boxes of five chemical lights each. Emergency rations, a space blanket, a simple first aid kit in addition to the other one you brought up, although the big one has more items, like tourniquets and a stitch kit. Oh, there’s small tins of fresh water in this too…”

Bish carefully ticked through it all, meticulous as always. Lupin helped pack it all back up when she finished. They took a break to check on their makeshift patients and help them sit up for more water. This time they were a little more ready and drank more than they dribbled. The two women moved on to account for their food stash when their patients were laying back down again. Most of the food turned out to be snack foods, although the occasional granola bars, trail mixes, nuts, and dried fruits made it into the group. Drinks were plentiful, although they agreed to leave out the alcohol.

They were set, for the most part, although with two additional and unexpected passengers, the food wasn’t going to last for longer than a few days, they realized.

“Maybe I should take a look at the engine?” Lupin offered uncertainly. Bish frowned, unsure of whether that would do them any good.

“Could you even fix it?” Lupin’s dejected sigh was answer enough, never mind the shrug.

“Hopefully they got ahold of someone before all this went down. Maybe someone at their office, the coast guard, just…someone. Maybe they’re looking for us, but I haven’t seen any ships or airplanes…” Her brows creased and her lips tipped into a thin, hard frown. “That’s actually pretty weird. There were boats all over the place before, and little sea planes flying in and out. You could hear them swooping down, but now…listen. There’s nothing. No boats, no planes.”

Bish returned the frown, and she paused to listen as well and found her friend to be right. There was no noise, save for the wind blowing and the seawater slapping against the boat. Lupin stared out the window, past the spider web thin cracks in the glass and the lifeboat still slumped on the deck blow. She was focused on the horizon.

“I don’t think that really means anything. But even if it does, it is a bit odd. I think I’d be more worried about drug traffickers finding us, though. This is kind of their area.”

She waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. She fidgeted and glanced at the two young men. They didn’t look much better, but they didn’t look any worse, either. Bish reached over and gathered Lupin’s attention again, and they set back to the previous task of getting their patients up and sipping water. Again, they were more recipient this time around, and they even drank extra gulps than before. Lupin reached for a few packs of dried fruit next, and offered it first the blond man. He sniffed tiredly, and his eyes peeped open briefly before he leaned forward and bit into the fruit. He chewed slowly, then took another bite. Bish relocated herself to attend the other young man and he too responded positively.

“Water,” a hoarse voice croaked, startling Lupin. She turned back, took one of the bottles by his arm and opened it.

“Sip it, don’t guzzle. You’ll just throw it up again if you try,” she remarked quietly.

“Lupin?”

“Yeha, just a second, Bish,” Lupin replied. To the blond man, she said, “Hey, I just said don’t try to guzzle. Jesus Christ, dude, don’t undermine our work here, you’re dehydrated enough as it is.”

“Lupin, seriously, I don’t think I can take any more weird shit, but I think you should take a look at this. Like, right fucking now.”

“Bish, what—oh. Oh, holy shit. I think you’re right.”

Bish was standing over the other young man, gaping at the sight outside the boat, far off on the waters. Lupin slowly eased her own patient down, and stood to join her. Beyond the wheelhouse and the deck with the lifeboat and so much closer than the horizon would ever be, a ship was sailing past them. They had been hoping for one, no doubt, but certainly not an old galleon.

Its hull was wooden and scorched black like charcoal. Her sails were just as dark, most of them reefed but quite a few were puffed up with wind rattling about in them. Men climbed up along the masts or Jacob’s ladders, their voices tinny as they shouted off to one another. It passed them by as quickly as it had come, silent as a wraith.

“…I think you’re right. I don’t think I can take anymore weird shit either. I draw the line at _Fullmetal Alchemist_ cosplayers in the middle of the Caribbean. I don’t think pirates of the Caribbean are something I can take right now.”

“Which kind of pirates?”

“Franchise or historical. Either one. Or both. Both I’m good without right now.”

_Not sure if I should say ‘I’d rather take on drug dealers’ or not. Probably best not to._

Breathing shallowly, Lupin swallowed thickly past the cottony taste in her mouth and the nervous lump in her throat. Without tearing her eyes from outside, in case the ship circled back around, Lupin reached for Bish.

“Get the crowbar.”

“What?”

“Get the crowbar for yourself. I’ll take my knife and the flare gun. Just in case.”

“In case of _what_?”

“I don’t know,” Lupin admitted. “In case those aren’t just cosplay enthusiasts.”

“That sounds crazy,” Bish muttered, although something about that ship made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and shivers roll down her spine. Something told her to prepare herself, but for what, she wasn’t sure. Fight or flight, perhaps?

“Crazy seems to be the main theme for today, didn’t you hear? We have sailing ships and alchemists and mysterious storms appearing out of nowhere, quite literally. If those people are friendly and just historical actors or something, maybe they can get us back. If not, I don’t want to risk things going south. Not without a fight.”

Bish didn’t hesitate this time. She found the crowbar Lupin had brought back up with ease. It felt heavy in her hands, and the girth was slim, almost too small. She flipped the curved end out to face away from her. Her palms were slick with sweat and she had to keep wiping her hands on her shorts. As an afterthought, she snatched up the same screwdriver from the toolbox as she had earlier. In the meantime, Lupin retrieved the flare gun and after moments of fiddling, loaded a round. She carefully tucked it in the back of her waistband, and put her butterfly knife in her back pocket. It bulged out against the material but it was slim and easier to conceal.

Just as she settled the knife in, she saw a flicker of movement on the port side of the ship. Something was there, and seconds later, hands were gripping at the gunwale and a body was heaving itself up onto the deck. Worn trousers, white linen shirt, a deeply tanned face with unkempt hair, all of it dirtied, scrambled upright. The gangly fellow didn’t look like much, but at the same time, he also didn’t appear scrawny enough to take down easily. He treaded carefully in bare feet across the deck, peering at everything with curiosity and suspicion.

“Get down, stay low.”

“Don’t go out there alone, please don’t.”

Lupin looked apologetic when she glanced at her friend. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll signal you to get ready. Okay?”

“Not okay!” She hissed back. Lupin turned back toward the doorway. Two more bodies followed the first and she wordlessly motioned for Bish to get down and strolled over toward the exit and called out to the three men. The Hispanic woman fumed in silence, glaring at her brave, but also stupid, friend and muttered darkly in Spanish under her breath.

She knew they needed help, but she also knew that guys dressed like ragged sailors from the Colonial Ages were either probably insane, historical actors, or filming something. One of the three. She just hoped it was the most lenient of choices and that their good luck streak would strike them now. Something in her gut told her they needed it now more than ever.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


	4. Parlay

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

  _Drama is life with the dull bits left out._  
\- **Alfred Hitchcock  
**

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

From the quarterdeck of the _Pearl_ , he could make out the little white tub with enough clarity to decide what it was they were approaching. It was indeed a ship of some sort, but none he had ever seen before. And Jack has seen all manner of ship in his life. The hull gleamed in the morning light, snowy white and shiny, with metal railings lining her sides instead of wood. As they approached, he could make out a Jolly Roger, crude but effectively recognizable, painted on the bow beneath her name, _Little Black Flag_.

He briefly wondered what kind of material it was crafted from, aside from the obvious bits of metal. There were no sails to her and no masts either—broken or otherwise—and she certainly had no signs of decks that suggest cannons or slits for rowers. Other than that, she seemed to be in fine condition—no gouges or tears in her hull to suggest she was otherwise unsuitable for bobbing along in the water. Her keel had its fair share of wear, with all manner of clinging green algae and barnacles clinging stubbornly to her from below. And she was beached, a bloated little white beauty ripe for taking, stranded upon a copse of rocks. The thin strip of stone was craggy and pitted, years of storms and tide having done their work. There were other strips of sand and stone dotting the waters here and there, threatening to beach them as well. Jack made sure they glided along to avoid another creeping branch of land, lest they rip the _Pearl_ ’s hull upon them.

The _Little Black Flag_ was going nowhere for a long while. What’s more, it looked like she was alone, with no crew or passengers to bar their way. He called for them to drop anchor, set forth a longboat, and to investigate.

Expectant smiles all around were flashed from one man to another, exhausted though they were. They began lowering the longboat as ordered and soon were scuttling toward the boat. It didn’t take long for curiousity to win him over, however, and soon there was a second longboat with him and two other men in it, sliding across the waters between his ship and the other.

His good feeling disappeared altogether when a keening shriek and a blinding flash of white-hot red light shot itself from the _Little Black Flag_. It flew through the air, leaving a trail of sparks and light in its wake until it sputtered out and died in the water. Two of his men from the forwarding party leapt overboard and into the waters in a fright. A howling scream sounded off from another. The men in Jack’s little longboat stopped, staring abjectly at him. Alarm shone in their eyes, but he could also see the morbid curiousity in there as well, a wretched desire that tore him between turning around or lingering around. Fight or flight was certainly taking its time battling it out in the men. Jack grimaced as he regarded the little white ship before he fluttered his hands at his men.

“I didn’t say stop nor did I allude to you turning around. Keep going.”

Reluctantly, they dipped the oars into the water and propelled them closer toward the _Little Black Flag_. It was laboriously slow going. All the while, it sounded like a fight was ongoing. Another piercing shriek and sharp pop of light went off, accompanied by another scream of his third man aboard. The victim in question danced into view, patting at flames that licked at his clothes and body, howling all the while. He too finally leapt into the waters with a final shriek, dousing out the fire.

“Yeah, that’s right! Just you try it again, motherfucker, I got more where that came from!”

Jack watched with an idle eye as his man scrambled up onto the rocks beneath the boat, looking more like a drowned cat than a sailor.

“Mister Ladbroc,” he called, startling the man. Wide blue eyes regarded him moments later, and the man wiped uselessly at the water dribbling down his face.

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“Tell me, how many are there?”

“Sir?”

“The ship, Mister Ladbroc. How many people are aboard this ship?”

“Two women, captain. Didn’t get much of a good look in the cabin when I was climbing the stairs, but maybe two more. I think. They might be sick, if they’re lack of response is worth something.” He glanced up, looking disturbed. “One of them womenfolk has a gun that discharges light and fire instead of iron and gunpowder. Might want to tread carefully if you go up there, sir. She fights like the Devil ‘imself. Don’t think any of them will go quietly, not if she has any say.”

A woman who could shake the resolve of a man was worth meeting—although caution wasn’t too terrible of an idea, either. It certainly piqued his interested. Jack noticed a set of rungs on the side of the ship and pulled himself up on them. The grooved material had him take pause for a moment and he ran weathered fingers across the material. It wasn’t anything he’s seen before, true enough. These were idle thoughts for later analysis, he reasoned, resuming his sojourn up the rungs and onto the deck.

“Hold it right there!”

He turned toward the voice, his hands up, although it halfheartedly done so. His lips twitched when he was faced with the owner.

There was a stairwell to the starboard side of the deck, leading into…well, he wasn’t sure if he were to call it the cabin or the quarterdeck. There was glass over it all, cracked in some places, but he could see more clearly here than from the _Pearl_. A wheel for the ship was barely visible, but it was tiny, almost inconsequentially dismissible. From the doorway, there was one woman, holding a tiny pistol in his direction, yet it was oddly shaped.

It was no flintlock pistol, but it certainly stood out. Snub-nosed and painted an absurdly bright orange, he almost would have laughed at the sight if it weren’t pointed straight at him. Ladbroc had warned him of it shooting fire and light. He’s seen the aftermath, and he’s certainly seen stranger in his time on the seas, so he couldn’t dismiss the notions of it being deadly entirely.

She looked ready to use it, if her set jaw and tightly knit brow and small tense frame were anything to go by. He took note of her strange garb as well; black sleeveless shirt, blue-dyed trousers that hugged her form snuggly, black boots, and her dark hair pulled back to keep from her face. It was clear to see she was studying him just as intensely and there was hesitation flashing in her eyes, even a sort of recognition in them as she looked him over.

Jack gave her his most winsome and took some liberties to step closer, hands still up but no longer at a position of surrender.

“Easy there, luv. I’m not here to put you in harm’s way. I’ve come to negotiate.”

Negotiate for her supplies, perhaps. This location was close to trading routes. Chances were she and whoever her companions hiding behind her could get picked up within the day after him and his own left.

Confliction eased itself onto her face. He moved closer now, but paused when she reasserted herself as the dominant party. The oddly-coloured pistol was repositioned in his direction. He stepped back as a show of good faith.

“Now, if anything, I should be the one that’s upset. You shot at my men. You set one of them on fire.”

“He was about to stick a sword in me and mine. Y’all have some funny negotiation techniques if you were the one who sent them to do it first.”

 _‘Y’all’_? Well, that was certainly new. He squirreled that away for later examination. She remained frigidly stiff, unyielding in her position. The only way in was through the doorway and her frame, though small, was in the way. She cocked her head but kept her eyes trained on him, as though listening to something. The other passengers, perhaps?

Slowly, he began to let his hands drift to his waist, one upon his sash and the other barely brushing the hilt of his sword. She jerked at the action.

“Hands up! Hands up where I can see them,” she barked suddenly. He lifted his hands, although he flashed another smile that clearly showed his amusement at the whole funny situation.

 

…it would have been funnier if she wasn’t pointing a pistol at him, though.

“Do you have a doctor on your ship, by any chance? Or a satellite phone?”

The first half he understood. The second half…not so much. The inquiry itself showed a weakness, however—there were injured parties aboard this vessel. Ladbroc has said as much as well. It certainly would make sense, with how bristly the woman was. She was the protective sort, looking to defend her group. He contemplated the first, however.

“No one that’s trained with a schooled degree, admittedly, but we get by with who we have. And I’m going to have to say…no to the second.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“What’s your name?”

He was taken aback, but he breezed through it without a fuss or missing a beat.

“Darling, I am Captain Jack Spar—”

“ _No_ , you’re not. He’s not real, he’s a movie character. Stop fucking around with me. What. Is. Your. Name.”

Now he was beginning to see there were pieces missing to this puzzle.

“Let’s start with yours, shall we?”

She gave an ugly sort of snort. “Sure, I’m Joan of Arc. Nice to meet you. And you?”

“I already told you, my name is Captain Jack Sparrow. You have heard of me, haven’t you?”

The name was familiar to her, he could see it plain as day on her face, but she seemed hell-bent on dismissing the idea entirely. She said he wasn’t real, but he was standing before her, alive and breathing, wasn’t he?

“You sure your name isn’t Johnny Depp,” she replied blandly, a heavy layer of sarcasm dripping sardonically from her words. He was admittedly thrown off by her comment, genuinely confused.

“I am quite positive I am not some mad bloke named ‘Johnny Depp’,” he said. “You were asking for a doctor. May I inquire as to why?”

She cocked her head to the side again, eyes still watching him, but she was distracted by listening to whoever else was in there. One, three, ten, it didn’t matter. They were speaking too softly even for him to hear a muffled echo of a noise.

“I…” she hesitated, finally taking her eyes off of him to look over her shoulder. She turned back just as quickly. He only got three steps closer before he stopped. “That longboat over there…you see it?”

He gave a cursory glance over his shoulder. He could see it quite plainly; it took up half the deck. It had a few clothing articles inside, one oar, and one rather gristly looking dead man inside. Several somethings was scuttling about inside and poking at it. One came into view and he noted it was a crab, opening and closing its pincers. He turned back just as it began picking at the flesh on the man’s cheek.

“Bit hard to miss, aye.”

“We got the remaining survivors from that thing up in here and they’re not doing too good. Sunstroke, maybe? We’re not too sure. We got ‘em going again and drinking water. They’re somewhat conscious but…we need someone more qualified to take a look at them. Someone who can tell us if they’re going to be okay. Do you have someone like that on your ship?”

Jack considered the question carefully, mulling over it for a time. He crossed his arms over his chest and the baubles strewn about his person softly clinked as he did. He loved that sound. Didn’t know why, exactly, but he did.

“And what, pray tell, would you have to bargain for such services? As much as your story tugs at me heartstrings, I don’t exactly see any profit in it for me to dispense mine or my men’s time for such notions.”

Now she was the one considering him. She looked ready to rebuke him yet a calm wave came over her and she allowed common sense and consideration to take over instead of blindly jumping ship. It didn’t take long for her to finally blurt out, “We have some money. And there’s alcohol—uh, whisky, tequila, beer, and some rum I think too, over there. Behind the counter.”

That was a welcome change. And it stirred up his interest. He gave her another gold-flecked smile.

“I think we might be able to arrange somethin’ after all,” he said. Tilting his head back, he shouted over his shoulder, “Mr. Ladbroc, you still there, lad?”

“A-Aye, sir, I am.” A wavering voice affirmed.

“Go back t’ the _Pearl_ and fetch our good doctor. We have a few patients for ‘im.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“We’re either dead, tripping balls on some kind of deranged dehydrated-induced hallucination, or we’re in the loony bin and wigging out to whatever medicine they’re dripping into us.”

 _Too right_ , Lupin thought, although she kept her comment silent for the time being. This entire day had been one run-on surreal phase, one event right after another. The line between what was thought to be real and imagined was blurring all too often until they were blended too well together. There was no way any of this was real. She was almost expecting to see a film director or camera crew to pop up at any moment, laughing at her and Bish’s expense at the whole ordeal. She was almost expecting their two patients to be in on it, as well, faking their sickness and revealing they were actors of some sort as well.

 _Well, if this_ is _some kind of elaborate_ Punk’d _level-prank, now’s as good a time as any to come along and ruin the illusion that we believe that_ any _of this is real._

First there were the Elric brother lookalikes and now a Captain Jack Sparrow lookalike? And they even had the great wooden galleon spruced up to look like the _Black Pearl_. It all seemed too great a coincidence. And yet, Lupin couldn’t quite trust her eyes. She also didn’t want to trust her gut, nor anything else, for that matter. From the occasional, doubtful glance she sent and even received from Bishquet, she knew her friend was feeling the same uneasy turmoil.

_But who in the hell would waste all this money just to fuck around with me and Bish? None of our families or friends are rich enough to do even a quarter’s worth of this setup, and it’s not like we go around, harassing people that badly enough. It’s not like we dared anyone to screw with our heads like this._

It almost got to the point where she wanted to pull Bish aside and speak to her in the corner about her thoughts. But not here. Not here, in front of these people. She refrained from voicing her concerns or letting it show outwardly too much, however, and returned her focus to the current roster of activities going on.

The Jack Sparrow lookalike had called for a man he deemed close enough to a medical practitioner that they could hope for. He was dressed similarly to his fellows that had tried to board earlier: wool trousers, loose linen shirt, an unbuttoned waistcoat, a loosely tied sash around his waist and a cutlass dangled from a leather belt with a dash of leather boots to complete the attire. He eyed them for a moment, nodded and muttered a greeting whilst toting a bag in hand that jangled with each step.

“He isn’t gonna go Jack the Ripper on them, is he?” Bish asked uncertainly as the man crossed the threshold toward the first beleaguered young man. Lupin shook her head, but said nothing else. Her eyes kept drifting between the two men lying on the deck, to the makeshift doctor, and lastly they lingered long and hard on the Jack Sparrow lookalike. He watched everything from his own little corner, a hand casually draped across a spoke of the _Little Black Flag_ ’s wheel. She found his eyes were darting all around, quietly drinking in the scenery while his man worked.

Their gazes met for a moment, and her back and shoulders tensed up. She had to fight the urge to reach for something protective. The other man’s lips twitched, but he didn’t quite smile. Somehow, she felt like he was laughing at her silently, even if his face was rather blank.

“These men are incredibly ill, sufferin’ from bein’ out in the sun for too long—they’ll die if we don’t bring down their temperature. I need medicine for their fever. Have you tried feeding them anything?”

An elbow in her side made Lupin jump and she glanced at Bish first. The other woman jerked her head towards the doctor on the ground, who was glowering at them both.

“Some dried fruit,” Bish answered.

“They managed to keep down some water, too.” Lupin added. The man nodded with a soft grunt.

“Might be able to salvage ‘em, then,” the makeshift doctor muttered. “They’re toeing the line between the point of no return and the turn back point. We’ve got to get ‘em cooled down more and some proper medicine in ‘em or they’ll cross over. Cap’n?”

The Jack lookalike didn’t respond at first. His gaze was resting on the two comatose young men, his face drawn into a carefully calculated blank. A second call to him got through and he snapped his head upright and strode forward with a liveliness in his step.

“Right then. Bag the lads up, leave the girls and be sure to dispense them with just enough supplies to last them a day or so until someone else can come pick ‘em up,” he quickly relayed, to which the good doctor was already stashing away his instruments.

“Hey, what the hell d’ya mean, ‘leave the girls’? What the fuck!”

“That wasn’t part of the deal, man; we gave you the fucking liquor! You said you’d help us!”

Now he looked rather insulted. He pointed between the two of them as the good doctor—if one could even call him that any longer—continued packing up and toddling out toward the steps. Both young women ignored him as he went his way.

“I agreed to help the lads with a bit of an exchange for your good rum. Which, it turns out, aren’t even by the barrel-full! You give me…sips. Sips of rum! _Sips_! And a few bottles of assorted this and that, I’ll grant you that. If anything, _I_ should be the one that’s upset.” He huffed, although in truth, he didn’t appear upset at all. Maybe annoyed, but that was about it. “Not to mention, we never agreed anything on the likes of you two.”

He ignored the seething glowers directed at him as he stepped lightly around the two men on the deck. “I will gladly take these ill men aboard my vessel, have them nursed back to proper health, and give them the option when they’re well to serve before the mast or set them about their merry way. Wherever that may be.”

The Jack lookalike paused to bark commands to several crewmembers that were awaiting orders outside on the _Little Black Flag_ ’s deck. They came with the thunder of bare and booted feet slapping against hard surface. The ship shook lightly from their advance as they came inside, one by one, into the cool retreat of the wheelhouse. The captain’s attention remained diverted as crewmembers slung out makeshift stretchers as the two women watched, aghast at the sudden downhill turn of events.

They were going to be left behind. This jerkoff Jack Sparrow impersonator was going to just take everything, including the two sick young men, and leave them with next to nothing on a broken boat.

Lupin’s eyes darted between the captain, the men hauling up their sick counterparts onto the stretchers, to the dangling swords at all their sides. Her hand twitched to yank one out, or perhaps snag the flare gun tucked in the band of her jeans—something, anything, to forestall their being abandoned. She could hear the white noise of a growing roar pounding away in her ears and echoing inside her skull. She wiped slick, sweaty palms on her jeans, trying to steady their nervous shakes. A glance at her friend told her the same desperate thinking was galloping through her head as well.

Finally, a fit of desperate thoughts cobbled themselves together long enough for her to blurt out, “Parlay!”

Everyone stopped. Even the Jack lookalike stopped. His grin had faded, his swaying froze, and all eyes were on Lupin and Bish with baited breathes. For a long while, nobody said anything or moved. The men slowly turned toward their captain after an eternity passed. It might have been comical at any other point in time.

The captain seemed to have gathered his wits fairly quickly and he let off a soft chuckle and smiled, but it felt cold just looking at it.

“Luv, you’ve already conveyed your parlay and our business is done. We’ve completed negotiations. Chances are, you’ll be picked up within the day, if not by tomorrow. You’re near enough a high-traffic supply line. Might be you’ll end up in Spanish or French hands, sadly enough, but if you know enough of either to get by, you could possibly barter passage back to Nassau, if not Port Royal.”

The men looked to Lupin and Bish. Lupin was briefly stuck on his mention of the French and the Spanish—but it was something she couldn’t linger on, no matter how irritatingly familiar it was to her. Beside her, Lupin could practically feel her friend was vibrating with pent up energy.

“Wait, wait, no, Loopy! You didn’t say parlay—Lupin didn’t say ‘parlay’ earlier before! You helped us out on your own terms, not under the terms of parlay. She’s invoking it now, you have to stay and negotiate some more.” Bish babbled excitedly, turning to her friend. While she was ready and willing to snag onto an idea—any that would delay them being left for dead—she kept the questions she wanted to ask to herself. For now.

Lupin kept a steady, if nervous gaze, on the captain. The men looked back to the Jack lookalike as well. For a moment, there was a flicker of doubt in his dark eyes. They flicked back between his men’s faces, the sick men between them, and the two women behind the rest. At last, he nodded his head toward the door.

“Get the lads aboard the _Pearl_. I’ll only be a moment.”

They scuttled away with their sick wards in hand, filing out one-by-one into the muggy Caribbean heat. Their chattering faded as they got to the deck blow and across toward the gunwale where several longboats waited. Only after he was assured his men were out of earshot did the man left behind stir. He made no show to hide how his hand slid toward the pommel of his sword.

“You think you’re clever invoking the right of parlay. That only works for pirates.”

“ _You’re_ a pirate, aren’t you?”

Somehow, he didn’t think the good humour in the woman’s voice was well-intended. In fact, it was borderline sarcastic. He ignored it, for now.

“I am. But you two are not. And _that_ is my point,” he rebuked, pivoting on his booted heel to face them. Suddenly, Lupin felt smaller than usual. “I meant the truth of it when I said you’re close to supply lines. You’ll be picked up within a day—”

“What year is it?”

There was a brief hesitation from all three. Lupin glanced over at her friend, a little dumbfounded by the sudden and out-of-the-blue question.

“Bish?”

Silence fell down in full force, crushing down on the three of them like the choking air they drank in. Yet another cursory remark that had left the captain speechless and thunderstruck, but it had done the trick to stall, even if only for a moment.

“I’m not sure it has anything to do with whatever is running through that pretty skull of yours, but I’ll humour you. It’s 1738, luv. Have you missed a few months? Or perhaps a year?”

He was distracted by the exasperated scoff from the one called Lupin.

“ _Bullshit_. Drop the act. You’ve done a _wonderful_ reenactment, but I’d really like to make that phone call home to my family. We’re done with whatever game you’re playing, it’s not funny anymore.”

“If I thought this was funny, I’d be laughing. Isn’t that what funny things are supposed to do?” The man narrowed his eyes at the two of them and lurched forward unexpectedly, his baubles and beads alike jangling as he did. They both tensed—Lupin for the flare gun, Bish for the crowbar at her feet. Only then did he stop, a mere foot away from the two of them, head turning to and fro as though he were a bloodhound with a scent.

“You look _almost_ like a Spaniard, but you…you got the look of a Colonist girl, and yet you aren’t from the Colonies, let alone England. Nor anywhere else for that matter, I’m guessing. Both your accents are wrong, they’re… _muddled_. Not quite Yank or Spanish, but close. And you asked a rather odd question about what year it is. That’s a mite more than unusual. A lesser man might not stop to think about it, thinking you’re lost, delicate and deluded young ladies wilting in the heat.”

“I’m wilting,” Bish piped up, trying to break the tension, although her joke fell flat in the wake of the tension. The Jack lookalike breathed out slow and steady, leaning back to his full height as he reconsidered the two women as though for the first time. His eyes roved over them, carefully scrutinizing details he must have glossed over in their first meeting.

“What year d’you think it is, eh?”

“2009,” both Lupin and Bish replied simultaneously without delay. The expression on the man’s face didn’t change, but his eyes…

There was something that flashed in his eyes. It was too quick, gone in a wink before either of them could discern anything from it.

“You didn’t miss just a year. You skipped ahead two centuries. Now _that_ is very interesting.”

The evidence didn’t seem too farfetched. This ship was of strange design—familiar, and yet at the same time, it was alien to him. The materials for the ship itself, the design of the quarterdeck, the odd little cold storage for the drinks down below, even the shelving inside here were covered in odds and ends he wasn’t acquainted with. Buttons and levers, there were so many of them. A part of him wanted to buzz around and start poking, prodding, learning. But he was still interested in the case of the misplaced women before him.

The missing puzzle pieces were back on the table and they were sliding into place now.

He smiled abruptly, and there was more warmth to it now as he showed off flecks of gold teeth.

“I think we might be able to parlay after all, luv.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Apologies for the lack of the Elric brothers, they’re currently out of commission for the time being, but we’ll get back to our regularly scheduled crossover next chapter. Promise. :)**


	5. Stages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**  

  _If all of the world's a stage, I want to operate the trap door.  
_ **-Paul Beatty**  

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edward woke up.   

He could barely keep his eyelids open. They felt heavy and stiff, just like the rest of his body. It took every ounce of strength left in him to keep them open long enough to figure out why everything felt like it was…shaking. Rocking. Back and forth. 

Someone was at his side, as though melting from the shadows around him. They helped him up, offered him water and some food. 

The only thing he had finally gathered in his woozy first few minutes of consciousness was that he was safe and secluded, in the cool retreat of shadows and away from the blistering sun and heat. It was probably night, he figured. He managed to push down some of what was offered him. Exhaustion swept through him, and he was helped back down. 

“Where am I?” He croaked, although he was already feeling himself slip away into blissful black before his attendant could answer. 

 **OoOoOoOoOoO**  

Edward woke up. 

He felt stronger than last time, but to him, it was as though no time had passed. 

“Hey,” a voice to his right greeted. He tried moving his head, but that took more effort than it should have. His head was a heavy stone, unwilling to budge, but he finally managed to get it done. He was still in the dark. So was his attendant. 

He was again offered water and some food. A small ounce of strength renewed itself as he ate and drank.

“Where’s my brother?” 

“He’s fine. He’s resting in the cot beside you.” 

“Where am I?” 

He tried to squint and stare at his attendant, but he was feeling himself slip back again into the comforting retreat of sleep instead. He let it take him this time instead of fighting it. He wanted sleep. 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edward woke up. 

His heart was racing for the first time in what felt like a hundred years. He was drenched in sweat, but he was freezing. The scratchy wool blanket over him wasn’t enough. 

His attendant was at his side again in moments, tugging the blanket up to his chin. “Take it easy, you’ve got a fever.” 

A fever? That couldn’t be right. He was _freezing_. Every inch of his body was set to shivering violently, sometimes in spasms. He had to clench his jaws to keep his teeth from chattering against one another. 

“Here, drink this. C’mon, all of it. You need to get some fluids in you.” 

He would have guzzled the entire thing of water offered to him, if his attendant hadn’t forced him to take sips. The water was warm and stale, but it was a welcome respite. 

“Where’s my brother?” 

“He’s sleeping and doing fairly better than you, but he’s got a fever too.” 

“Where am I?” 

“On a ship.” A pause. “We’re crossing the Atlantic. Dunno how far we’ve gone, though. Can you sit up long enough to eat? Got some hot stew for you, if you think you can handle it.” 

That sounded wonderful. It took nearly all his strength, but it was worth getting something hot in his belly. He managed to down nearly the entire thing, even after downing a good amount of water. He finished the bowl and for a moment, felt content, fat, and happy. It was perhaps the first real meal he’s had in… 

However long it’s been since his ship had sunk. How long ago was that? It felt like years. 

But then a familiar discomfort began to make itself known in his lower abdomen and he groaned. 

“Is there a bathroom I can use?” 

Without a word, his attendant was helping him up, slipping his arm over their shoulders. He had intended to push forward on his own two feet without help, but he nearly slumped over flat on his face when he tried. His attendant kept a firm grip on him and helped him into a somewhat upright position, although he tried to lessen how much his weight was leaning on them. He knew he was heavy because of his automail, and his attendant was rather short. 

His feet didn’t seem to want to work the way he wanted them to. It took forever for him to put one foot in front of the other, and his legs threatened to buckle with every step he took. But his attendant was patient and held up well under most of his weight pressing down on them. They helped without complaint, and managed to get him to the bathroom, which was little more than a little hole cut out in the wood of the ship. No enclosed space for privacy, no toilet paper. 

He groaned again, this time in annoyance. Slowly, his attendant helped him against a support beam and he sagged against, clutching at the wood. 

“I’ll let you do your thing. Just…holler if ya need some help. Um…there should be some linen if you gotta…you know.” 

He nodded appreciatively, although he had a feeling his attendant hadn’t seen. He shivered violently suddenly, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. He wanted to lie back down and get warm again. 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edward woke up in fits, shivering and coughing, disturbed from his peaceful sleep by the physical maladies riddling him now. He curled into a ball, but what little warmth he had wasn’t enough. He needed more. 

“Hey, hey, easy now. Here, I just got you another blanket. Hold on…” 

Something was draped across him and for a brief moment, he was warmer than before. But then the dampness began to settle in and set him to shivering again. The very air was damp; he could feel it, cold and clammy against his already sweat-drenched skin. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it, lass. His companion has a better chance than ‘im.” 

“I ain’t gonna let him die. Just get me the meds. If you lose this one, his brother ain’t gonna be very appreciative or cooperative when he gets better.”

“We are almost out. I hope you realize you’re exhausting it all on this lad.” 

“Then tell our dear captain to put it on my tab, but don’t you dare start getting stingy on it now! He’s getting better. His fever’s _finally_ going down.” 

“Where’s…where’s my brother? Where’s Alphonse?” 

“Christ—hey, buddy. Here, hang on, let’s get you something to drink, you’re sweating out all your body’s fluids, we gotta keep you hydrated. C’mon, let’s get you up now.” 

Small but strong hands were helping him up, laying support across his back while he swayed, woozy and lightheaded at the change in his position. Water was offered to him and this time, he took it in small sips. His stomach nearly roiled in protest, but at the same time, his cotton-dry mouth and parched throat were thankful for the reprieve. Even with the dampness in the air, everything on the inside felt like sandpaper, scratchy and arid and painful with every breath. Even his lips were in pain, cracked and stiff. It hurt to move them to form words, but the water eased some of the ache. 

“What are you still doing here, Mister Gibbs? I requested medicine. Not an argument.” 

Edward’s attendant had a steely voice that brooked no room for argument, even if the third-party was trying. There was a huff of breath, a string of muttered curses, but the finality of retreating footsteps seemed to echo like cannon shots in Edward’s skull. When they finally faded, his attendant offered him some food and a quiet apology. 

He said nothing, but even in his silence, his attendant seemed to gather an answer. They tugged the blankets more snuggly around him, apologizing again, this time for the conditions of his bedding. 

“We had some rain the other day. These got a bit soggy. We hung them out to dry as best we could. The others snatched up the drier ones before I could get to them. Bastards.” 

He sighed, long and heavy, taking in as much food as his queasy stomach could handle. After that, it was a blur until it faded to black. 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edward woke up.

It was to the loud clanging of a bell that stirred him from his slumber. 

The last time he was conscious seemed like a distant dream. He vaguely recalled the food and drink he had been offered, but it was all fuzzy and it hurt to try and force it all back. His head’s pounding, like the rhythm of the sea beating against a sandy shore, was constant and unyielding. 

But he was cool and it was dark, that much Edward was grateful for. He was too tired to try moving just yet, so he simply laid there for a long time. He could hear gulls calling, men singing some bawdy sailor’s song, the telltale creak of wood in water… 

It was all so soothing and yet it felt so off. 

It took him a long while to realize suddenly why it was so. 

He was on a ship. He was in the dark and well away from the sun’s rays. He was _alive_.  

Edward tried to sit up in a sudden fit of energy, but just as quickly as it had come, it fled him. Weakness pushed him down just as suddenly as his energy had thrust him up and he felt his whole body flush in halfhearted anger. It too faded rather quickly in the face of relief. 

Someone coughed to his left and he found just enough strength to loll his head over to stare at the source. It was another young man and recognition took hold of him almost immediately. Whatever tension that may have riddled him was gone, melting away at the sight of his brother. He too was alive and well. The gentle rise and fall of Alphonse’s chest told him as much.

It took another moment’s notice for him to realize that his brother wasn’t alone. 

A mass of curls and a vaguely human shape was folded in a seat beside his brother, who was resting on a cot. They were slumped over, perhaps asleep in their attendance duties. 

A brief flash of a face crossed over his mind, as quick as a wink and he frowned. Had it been Noa he had seen so long ago, or had he mistaken someone for her? He couldn’t remember clearly enough to discern it, but he knew he’d seen someone’s face in his fit of fever and heat exhaustion. 

Something stirred close by him, rustling softly, and he managed to turn his head again. A well of pain bloomed all along his skull but he managed to ride out the throbbing ache until it receded. He was taken aback to see someone else in a similar position at his side, once the pain had cleared. 

It was a woman, young, dark-haired and freckle-faced, and fast asleep. She was slumped over on what little space there was left on his own cot, coiled in a tight ball upon her seat. She was going to get a crick in her neck sleeping like that, he just knew it. And she looked so small, almost like a child. He wondered how old she was, but he also knew if he were to try and judge, he’d probably end up wrong. 

“Brother?” 

Edward felt his breath still itself in his chest, baited suddenly, at the sound of Alphonse’s voice. The pain in his head when he turned it again was faint and almost forgotten in the replenished well of relief that filled him to his core. 

“Yeah, Alphonse, I’m here,” he replied. He winced and coughed weakly, the action draining him. His throat was so dry, it hurt. He tried swallowing again, only to end up in another coughing fit. 

He didn’t even notice the woman at his side had awoken until she was helping him remain upright and pressing a bottle to his lips, the glass cool and damp. She pressed her arm across his shoulders, keeping him upright when a dizzy spell tried to take hold of him, but he overcame it quickly enough when his thirst won out. The water tasted stale, but it was refreshing. He didn’t care all that much how it tasted at this point. 

“Easy, easy. Christ, don’t chug it. If you puke on me…” 

The voice was vaguely familiar, but just barely. He ignored the needling words for now until his thirst was satisfied. The glass bottle was taken away and he sat there for a moment, soaking in the fact that he was alive, his brother was alive. They’d survived. 

He cast a cursory glance around him, taking note of the wooden cradle he was wrapped in. It was old, but judging from the faint stink of things, it was well used. The fairly empty hold he was stashed away in was littered with cots and hammocks for other crewmembers. There were some men slumbering away in their own spaces, temporarily removed from the world. He turned to face the woman beside him. She wasn’t much bigger now than she had been curled at his side. Her hair was dark, tied back from her face. She was studying him just as thoughtfully, her lips pressed into a thin line. 

“How’re you feeling?” 

“I’m fine…” He paused, judging the strength he had left in him and sighed heavily. “Can you…can you help me over to Alphonse? My brother. I just…” 

“Need to see him for yourself,” the woman concluded with a thin, knowing smile. He nodded. She helped him up without another word and soon enough, he was settling on the small cot beside his brother, who was sitting up now. Edward’s attendant roused the other woman that was snoring softly beside Alphonse. She awoke with a start, a pair of glasses drooping low on the bridge of her nose. When she pushed them back, little dimples where it had been pressing into her skin became apparent. She had darker skin than her friend, and her hair was a dark, curly mess. She tried taming it just enough to twirl it up into a makeshift bun. Her companion quietly muttered for them to leave the brothers be for a while. 

“We gotta let the captain know they’re awake now. It’ll only take a few minutes.” 

Edward eyed the two women for a moment, the words to call them back nearly flying from his lips, but he thought better of it. He turned back to Alphonse instead, who was smiling at him. He looked exhausted, pale and gaunt, but appeared cheerful enough regardless. Edward couldn’t help but notice how thin he appeared, though. 

“How long have we been out?” 

Alphonse’s smile hesitated, flickering before dropping away. 

“Almost two weeks, apparently. We were both pretty sick.” 

“Two weeks!” 

He gaped openly at Alphonse, not entirely believing him at first. Two weeks...they could have been in Europe by now for all he knew. 

“Where are we? Do you know that, at least?” 

“Still on the Atlantic. This isn’t a freighter like the last few ships we’ve been on, brother. It’s a sailing ship. It’s taking longer,” Alphonse answered, as though reading Edward’s concerns. 

“A sailing…we got picked up by a _sailing ship_?” 

He took another cursory look, realizing that no powered ship would be made of wood. He knew there was more, and just looking at his younger brother’s face confirmed his suspicions of that. He was already exhausted just sitting there and talking, but Edward had more strength in him now that the fever’s passed. He wasn’t going to let himself lie down again until he had more answers. If anything, he didn’t want to lie back down for a good long while, not if he could help it. His back and shoulders were sore, and his head was pounding away an unwanted rhythm that was beginning to irk his nerves.

“What is it, Alphonse?”

“I wasn’t as sick as you, but I was kind of in and out of it myself. I only managed to catch snippets of answers. But I got the impression that…I don’t know. I feel like something’s off about this ship and its crew.” Alphonse paused, before sheepishly adding, “Except for maybe the girls.” 

He didn’t quite remember the crew, if he had seen them at all. He remembered next to nothing. Everything was a blur, his mind stubbornly unconvinced that each memory shouldn’t be separated into coherent sequences. Any coherent memory remained elusive no matter how hard Edward tried to recall something, anything. But he remembered his attendant’s voice, her helping hands and more importantly, her actions. He could just vaguely recall her helping him up when he needed to go to the bathroom, or just sit up when he needed to drink or eat something. He gathered much was the same with Alphonse. 

The clatter of footsteps coming down their way distracted Edward and in the dim lighting, he could make out two familiar shapes emerging toward them. First there was the curly-haired woman and then his own attendant was following beside her. She was a lean little woman, and looked about as gaunt as Alphonse. She was tinier than he thought. Alphonse’s attendant didn’t look any better, her dark caramel skin looking paler than it should. They were both just as drained, he realized, from caring for him and his brother for the past few weeks. 

“Do you think you could walk or stand for a little? The captain wants to see you.” 

“Right now?” 

They both nodded, looking unhappy about the prospect themselves. Edward caught his brother’s gaze and he felt his shoulders sag for a moment before he squared them back. 

“Dammit all…fine. Yeah. I can do it. Alphonse? Will you be okay?” 

Alphonse nodded. “I don’t think the captain will be happy about us sitting around any longer than we have. We’d be dead if we hadn’t been rescued and cared for until we got better, right?”

He smiled past his exhaustion and turned to nod to the two girls as well. “If it doesn’t take too long, we should be okay.” 

The curly-haired woman worried at her lower lip, her face all but stating she wasn’t entirely convinced by his answer. But she moved forward first, helping locate Alphonse’s shoes. That was when Edward noticed he was barefoot as well. He wiggled his feet, testing them, before realization dawned on him and horror began to creep up his spine like cold icy fingers. 

“You didn’t…you didn’t take my shoes, did you?” 

His attendant raised a brow at him, stooping next to his cot and plopping them on his lap. 

“I had to. I didn’t want you getting foot rot.” She paused, straightening. “Or rust.” 

He paled at her words, feeling lightheaded all over again. But then she smiled, winked, and put a finger to her lips. The silent gesture eased some of the tension that riddled him, but he wasn’t completely rid of it just yet. 

“Hurry up and hide those shiny bits you got, buddy. Can’t go flashing it to a crew of pirates now, can you? I managed to hide you so far, don’t fuck up my efforts now.” 

Alphonse made a strangled noise of surprise beside him. The curly-haired woman giggled and the lean woman continued to smile. 

“Well? We have an audience with the captain. You said you feel strong enough to see him, if only for a few minutes. Don’t wuss out on us now. Put your money where your mouth is.” 

Edward squawked at an elbow in his ribs and glanced at his brother. Alphonse nodded to him, motioned to his shoes and swung his own legs over, stooping to slip his on. Edward looked at his loafers, still in his lap. They had certainly seen better days. Sighing, the elder Elric mimicked his brother’s actions, his chest growing tight with every breath he took. 

“How…how long have you known?” 

“The first day we found you. You were…you had heat stroke. We had to strip off some clothing articles. No, don’t worry, we didn’t take your pants. We had some amount of respect for your privacy. But when we saw your arm, and then your foot later on…” The lean little woman started off, but she hesitated and trailed off. Her curly-haired friend continued. 

“We figured that it’d be better not letting the people who picked us up to know. We managed to keep it secret as best we could. I think we did good, considering the lack of privacy on this ship.” 

“Is it true these people are pirates?” Alphonse remarked sharply. Edward paused from slipping his automail foot into his shoe to look at the two women. He noticed his coat and gloves had somehow made their way on his brother’s cot as well. He slipped them on as well, glancing at the two women as he did. 

“Just an expression,” the lean woman said. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. But them sailor types, though, you know?” 

She smiled, but it seemed false. Like she was trying to cover up something. It put Edward on edge, and even Alphonse seemed troubled. Regardless, they knew that their mysterious captain was waiting for them. It would probably be in their best intentions to go see them. It’d certainly lower the risk of being tossed overboard at this point. 

The two women scuttled closer, offering a helping hand to the brothers. Edward knew he was still feeling woozy and weak-kneed, and judging from his brother’s tight expression, he was too. It reminded him too much of his surgery and the recovery afterwards. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, determined to barrel through this. He waved away the offered hand toward him. 

“I got to start building myself back up and getting my strength back again, don’t I? I need to do this.” 

They looked uncertain for only a moment but they backed off. They hovered close by, leading the way through the hold, and paused at the staircase that led to the top deck. The steps became hated enemy number one in Edward’s mind after the first three were taken. He sagged on the wooden banister, clutching at it tightly. He stiffened at a hand pressing between his shoulder blades, firm but gentle. 

“C’mon. If you can walk, then walk. Just don’t overexert yourself or I’m making Jack come to you.” 

“Jack?” 

“The captain,” the bespectacled woman answered.

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” his attendant added with nod. “And you’re on the _Black Pearl_. She’s old, but sturdy.” 

The ship pitched slightly and Edward tightened his grip on the bannister. The hand on his back was yanked away when his attendant threw them out to grab hold of the bannister herself. She laughed, but her companion muttered something incomprehensible under her breath. 

“Yeah, Loopy? Not that sturdy if we’re being flung all over the place like this.” 

“We haven’t sunk yet, have we? I think that counts as sturdy. Now c’mon, you two. Let’s get a move on.” 

The stairs took longer than he would have liked, but he imagined going down would be easier later on than the sojourn going up. Regardless, the thoughts disappeared when a whiff of fresh air hit him full in the face. There was a light, briny spray to accompany it, but Edward didn’t mind it so much. It was better than the stink in the hold. It also helped clear his head and he almost felt like himself again. The sun was up high and the skies were a hot, clear blue without a trace of clouds. He gazed up and around him, seeing men crowding the deck or aloft on the masts, tugging free black sails from their holdings. 

The black sails tumbled down and the wind caught on them and the ship seemed to pick up the pace. He stared, mesmerized by the amount of lines used on the rigging to propel this ship by wind power alone. It really was a wonder he had to admit, even if he preferred the steel-freighters and barges. They seemed sturdier and were much faster than a wooden ship, in his opinion, although he was entirely done with the sea altogether. He couldn’t wait to get back to Europe.

A pat on his shoulder brought him back down and he turned to find the lean little woman grinning at him. Her blue-grey eyes winked with mirth as she stared up at him. A bit of warmth spread through his chest. Finally! He was taller than someone like he should be. 

“Pretty cool, huh?” 

“I guess you could say that, yeah.” 

“Yeah…and I’m sorry to cut your little tour short, but we gotta get going. Captain’s quarters are this way.” 

“Right. The captain.”

Maybe he and Alphonse could convince the captain to help them out, perhaps drop them off in Europe. They were crossing the Atlantic already. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, would it? Anywhere could suffice. He and his brother were adept enough at finding passage to wherever they needed to go, if that were to be the case. 

Those thoughts came to a grinding halt when he finally took notice of the crew. He hadn’t given them much thought his first sweep over them, but now that he was taking in the details on the main deck, it troubled him more than he realized. The men were raggedy-looking and wore tattered clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen a good wash in a long while. The worn quality of their clothing aside, however, it was the swords at their sides that put Edward on edge. That, and the occasional pistol stuffed in the sashes of some of the men as well. 

 _Strange,_ he thought, squinting at one such pistol. _They aren’t like the cartridge-fed ones…those are flintlocks. What kind of ship is this really?_  

He’s heard of eccentric lifestyles, but this one took the cake. Flintlock pistols hadn’t even really been used for a good century, not in actual combat or wars lately. He wasn’t an expert on weapons systems for rifles and guns, but he knew that much. Alphonse caught his eye and they exchanged a mutual look. Something was very off about this ship. 

The two women led them to a pair of double doors of polished, heavy wood. They were plain in design, faceless almost, but the dark paint gave it a somewhat imposing façade nonetheless. Edward, however, wasn’t impressed by their facelessness. He waited with a few cursory glances over his shoulder to keep an eye on the crew behind them. They were beginning to gather together, staring at him and Alphonse, muttering softly to one another. There were men of all walks of life cobbled together on the ship, but they all shared a similar meanness in their gazes that didn’t promise anything good. 

Edward turned back to face the blank double doors, clenching a fist experimentally. He felt tired, and his body’s muscles were aching, weakened by his two weeks being bed-ridden and fevered. He trusted he could handle a few of the men if things went south, but even after that, where could he and Alphonse go? It wasn’t as though they were at port and close to land. 

He nearly missed the muffled reply that called from the depths of the cabin beyond the double doors. It wasn’t until they were opening the doors did he return his attention more fully on what lay ahead. 

The captain’s quarters was stuffed with all manner of ornate objects, and the broad bay-windows in the back let in so much light that no other source was needed for the moment. Bolts of silk and samite, a pelt or two of what looked suspiciously like jaguar fur, heavy oaken chests with hidden objects locked away within, bags of precious metals and jewels, all manner of sea charts, logbooks, inkwells and lavish quills, and the occasional sash or coat casually tossed on this surface or that… 

There was more, of course, so much to soak in, but their attention was diverted from the eye-catching trinkets to the being sitting within. He wasn’t a terribly tall individual, but what he lacked in height, he made up in eccentricities and immediate presence, Edward immediately noted. The man wore his hair in a combination of loose hair, braids, and dreadlocks, with baubles and beads of all make braided into it. A faded red sash tied most of his away from his brow, but strands of his baubles hung everywhere and clinked against one another as he moved. Rings adorned his hands, bright and flashy knobs of metal and jewels pressed against his fingers. 

Kohl underlined his eyes, giving him an almost sickly appearance at first glance, but he looked as healthy as a sailor could get. When he smiled, flecks of gold flashed past his lips. A cutlass hung at his hip, a pistol in his striped sash, and all manner of other oddities hung from his waist. 

“Well, now. I see our bed-ridden lads are no longer bed-ridden,” he greeted, straightening from his stooped position over a sea chart. His hand swooped over the yellowed and faded map, fingers dancing over a squared object. Edward didn’t get a chance to see what it was exactly; the man had plucked up and tucked the mysterious trinket away somewhere on his person. Perhaps it had been hidden away in the ash-grey coat he wore. 

He motioned vaguely to the doors, and the two women with a flutter of his hands. “Go—close the doors. I don’t need unwanted eavesdroppers popping by unannounced. This ‘ere’s a private conversation not fer their ears.” 

They did as he requested, closing the doors behind the four of them. The noise rang in Edward’s ears, thudding heavily like the final nail in the coffin. He clenched his automail fist and heard a telltale faint creak of metal in return. 

The eccentric man smiled again. 

“There now. All private, jus’ th’ way we want it. Now, then, onto business.” 

He leaned against the tabletop briefly, fingers rubbing against one another as he examined Edward and his brother. Dark eyes glittered with intelligence, and something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. The man pointed to the two of them at last. 

“I am captain of this ship. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, if you will. This ‘ere is my ship, the _Black Pearl_. An’ you lads are now well enough to make decisions all by yer onesies withou’ any convincin’ or outside influences, I trust?” 

“If by that, you mean we aren’t influenced by our fevers, then I guess the answer to that would be yes,” Alphonse said. Edward only nodded. He let his gaze wander around the cabin and its riches adorning its space. A goblet sat on the table where Jack had been reading his maps, while a few glass bottles filled with dark liquid sloshed around in tune to the ship’s pitch and yaw. He returned his gaze back to the man in question. 

Jack motioned behind them, to the two women present. “You should be thankin’ yer lucky stars we even picked you lot up an’ more importantly, them. They stayed by yer sides the entire time you were down an’ out, makin’ sure you didn’t die. Wouldn’t let my men near you, were afraid they’d mess something up.” Jack smirked, as though that were funny. “I had the same thought, once or twice meself. I don’t think you’d be here if I had left you in my men’s care.” 

He twirled on his heel, moving swiftly back around his table to snatch up the goblet and took a long draft from it. He set it down just as quickly, sound refreshed as he took a breath. 

“But now we’re down t’ the question of what t’ do with you. You have two choices—well…three.” He wagged a hand dismissively at the idea of a third choice. “But let’s focus on the first two. Number one, I could let you stay aboard me ship, you serve before the mast, answer the call to the sea as yer two nurses over ‘ere ‘ave when we picked you lot up all at once.” 

That startled the Elric brothers alike and they turned to look at the two women. They avoided their gazes at first, looking sheepish and shrugged in the long run.

“It was either that, or get left behind while you two got taken aboard. Jack’s right, you’d probably be dead by now if he had gone that route.”

“An’ I’m glad I did not. I needed a few more ‘ands, t’ be honest, although I hadn’t expected a pair of ‘em t’ be so small…”

He gave a knowing look to the two women, before his eyes flicked back to the two brothers. Edward felt his blood grow a little hotter. He didn’t know the entire story yet, but what little he had now it was enough to make his blood boil at the idea of this man leaving behind stranded people. 

“And you expect us to repay the debt for saving our lives by having us work on your ship,” Edward ventured. Jack grinned, slow and wide with a vague nod. 

“Or I could jus’ drop you off the next time we make port, which will be in a few weeks. I ‘spect we’re about halfway ‘cross the Atlantic by now.” 

Jack paused, giving his maps a gentle sweep of his fingertips. He stabbed at a point on one of the maps twice. “We’ve ‘ad a good wind pushin’ us along now. Shouldn’t be too long before we hit Spain.” 

“What was the third option?” Alphonse ventured cautiously. 

“I toss you overboard and carry on my merry way same as I have been afore I picked you lot up.” 

“You had to ask,” Edward muttered quietly. No, that option was certainly not going to remain on the table. Not at all. 

“Is there a way we could get to Germany?” 

Jack’s lips pulled up into a questioning expression. “You mean the Prussian territ’ry?” 

“Prussian? No—Germany. You know, Munich, Berlin, Stuttgart.”

“I know the names of those cities,” the captain remarked, slowly lowering himself comfortably into a seat by his table. He kicked up his leather booted feet onto the table, poured himself another drink and took a swig. He kept his eyes on the two young men, the gears turning in his head before he put the goblet down suddenly and swung his legs back down. He stood, swiftly closing the distance between himself and the Elric brothers, his hands splayed at his side loosely before he pointed vaguely at them. 

“What year d’ya think it is? Eh?”

His lips twitched, and for a moment, he tore his gaze from the two men and glanced at the two women behind them. They tensed, their own stares flicking back and forth between the captain and the Elric brothers. 

The question threw Edward and Alphonse for a loop and they reeled at it, taken aback. 

“What do you mean, what year is it? We were only out for two weeks, not a whole year. Otherwise it wouldn’t be 1926, right?”

The twitching in Jack’s lips pulled into a little grin. Edward didn’t like that smile. It meant he knew something, that he had more information and wasn’t willing yet to indulge it. It meant he knew something more than them, _period_. Edward decided he didn’t like Jack, either. The man was smarmy and sneaky and _off_. But he knew _something_ , and Edward wanted to know too. As much as he didn’t like it, he needed to play along.

Slowly, however, Edward was beginning to put the pieces together. A wooden sailing ship that was completely outdated, suspicious looking men with cutlasses and flintlock pistols, a sneaky and eccentric-looking captain…

He didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure it all out.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Jack backed off, but just barely enough to give them their own space.

“What say you, ladies, eh? Should we tell ‘em?”

This time, they both looked at the two women. They were both tense and their breaths were baited, waiting, watching. They appeared more nervous now. Edward’s fist clenched on reflex and the creak of metal was louder beneath the gloves he wore.

They both looked back to a grinning, sly looking Jack. He spread his arms in grand, mocking gesture, still wearing his gold-flecked smile as he declared, “The year’s 1738 an’ yer sailing on the fastest pirate ship in the world. Welcome t’ the Caribbean, lads.” 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


	6. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_If you are out to describe the truth, leave elegance to the tailor._ _  
_ **\- Albert Einstein**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Pirates! We’re on a ship full of pirates! You let us be rescued by pirates!? Do you have any idea what this could mean for us?”

“I can probably name quite a few things, but blown out eardrums are not one of them at the moment.” Lupin offered the pacing, scowling elder Elric brother a passing glower of her own. “Now _sit_ down and _calm_ down or you’re gonna be right back in that cot you were in for the last two weeks. And this time I won’t be nice enough to help you into it if you collapse, I’ll have one of the _pirates_ help you back in it.”

That stopped the bristling young man dead in his tracks—but only for a moment. Lupin steeled herself under the hot molten gaze directed at her. Somewhere to her left and behind, she heard Bish hiss quietly between her teeth anxiously. Alphonse was just as stony-faced, but thankfully not as angry. It still presented a rather hard combination to break when the brothers were a united front like this. Lupin couldn’t allow herself to be bowled over, not now. She stood from the barrel she had been seated at, fists clenching at her sides out of reflex. She was several inches shorter than Alphonse, and even shorter than Edward.

When things had settled after Jack had finally agreed to bring her and Bishquet aboard the _Pearl_ , she marveled at how much taller he was than he seemed in present media. The anime and manga alike did him little justice.

That is, if this really was the real Edward Elric, and his brother the real Alphonse Elric. A part of her still wanted to deny this possibility. But, given how things were going so far, she and Bish had had all reasonable doubt all but washed clean from their minds. This really was the _Black Pearl_ they were sailing on. This really was Captain Jack Sparrow’s ship and crew. Two weeks of sailing away from the Caribbean and clear into the Atlantic had whittled it all away, slowly but surely.

It didn’t help that, when she and Bish had managed to do a sweep of the brothers’ personal belongings later on, they both had wallets with identification naming them as the Elric brothers.

Existential crises notwithstanding, Lupin pushed all those thoughts to the side as they tried to clamour for her attention at that moment. She squared herself up as best she could while trying to ignore the sudden slick sweat on her palms or the beating drum rhythm her heart was making against her ribcage. Being just under five foot even, it didn’t help her case, really, it didn’t.

“I said, sit your ass down or I’ll put it down for you.”

The moment the words left her mouth, the air seemed to grow still and silent, as though everything around them was holding its breath. Even the pitch of the ship seemed to still itself, alongside the groans and creaks, the slosh of seawater, and the booming voices crowing to one another top deck. The cool retreat of the ship’s hold was its own world now, watching, waiting, tense.

Edward held his ground, unperturbed by the small woman facing him now. He was tired and feeling weaker than usual due to his last two weeks being bedridden, yes. But at the moment, his anger was coursing adrenaline through his veins, giving him a boost in his lacking energy reserves. He just about opened his mouth to snap at Lupin, but a hand on his shoulder forestalled his words and he choked on them long enough to swallow them back down. He rounded on his brother, bristling still, but calmed when he saw the patience written on Alphonse’s face.

“We haven’t heard the whole story, brother. Maybe instead of blowing our tops and risk getting sick again from being overworked, we should listen to them.” His steely-grey eyes swept over Lupin and Bishquet, slow and steady, before returning to his brother. “So maybe we should calm down and let them tell us what happened, exactly.”

A myriad of emotions washed over Edward Elric’s face—anger, belligerence, retaliation, and more—before it deflated under Alphonse’s gaze. What Lupin lacked Alphonse more than made up for in cowing Edward into grudging silence. Edward finally nodded, muttering under his breath. Alphonse turned back to Lupin and gave a very thin and strained smile. She understood the meaning. She was on thin ice already, and it was only by his saving grace that she hadn’t been exploded at by his brother.

She gave him a faint nod in return and stepped back, returning to her makeshift barrel seat. The world around them flooded back—the sights, the smells, the sounds. The ship’s groans resumed, a bawdy song up top was in full swing, and the sloshing of the sea around them pitched the ship forward in a small wave. Even the snoring of the men off-shift came floating in on occasion toward the quartet.

Bish scooted closer to Lupin’s side, helping solidify some form of support for her friend, just as Alphonse did for Edward. The Elric brothers seated themselves upon a crate big enough to hold them both. Bish sat on another crate that completed the little circle. Edward crossed his arms over his chest defensively, jaw clenched and brow scrunched into a scowl. Alphonse looked more or less neutral, but that didn’t mean anything. Lupin recalled a phrase and it came to mind just then: beware the nice ones. They were the _real_ trouble.

_Where to start…introductions. We haven’t really introduced ourselves, have we? Kind of pointless, we know who you are, but I don’t think that’ll blow over well._

“I’m Lupin,” she started off with, motioning to herself first. “And this here is…”

“Ana. Ana Ortiz. But sometimes you’ll hear Loopy call me Bish or Bishquet. It’s a nickname, of sorts, from growing up. You can call me either or.”

“I’m Alphonse Elric. This is my older brother, Edward.”

“We kind of gathered that much.” Lupin remarked dryly. She flapped her hand in their direction, mainly towards their faces. “Strong resemblance. You have the same chin and ears and nose.”

“We also kind of peeked into your wallets. Oh, Loopy—we still have them, don’t we?”

“Right. We do. Don’t worry, we didn’t take your money or anything.”

“You sure about that? You signed up on a pirate crew. It wouldn’t surprise me if you tried nicking things from helpless, unconscious passengers you just happen to pick up and rescue.”

Lupin’s face clouded over with anger at the remark and despite the hand reaching out to grab her arm, she almost succeeded in springing to her feet. Bish’s grip only tightened, her nails digging into her until Lupin relented and sat back down reluctantly.

“Count your money. It’s useless to you here anyway, don’t know why you’d be all in a tizzy about it if you can’t use it. You’d be better using reales, escudos, doubloons…you get the picture.”

“I’m still not convinced the year is 1738. It’s 1926.”

“Uh, hate to burst your bubble, buddy—but it’s 2009 where Loopy and I came from. How the hell do you explain _that_?”

“That’s impossible. Time travel itself is impossible.” Edward spat.

“Not according to the Doctor.” Lupin quipped.

“The Doctor? Doctor who,” Alphonse asked, looking perturbed.

Lupin sighed, leaning forward to support her chin on her propped up hand while her elbow rested on her thigh. “Exactly.”

Bish reached over to flick her friend in the ear. The sting elicited a few expletives from Lupin, making Bishquet grin.

“Hun? Hate to break it up, but can we get back on track with things?” To the Elric brothers, she added, “She watches this television show called _Doctor Who_. It revolves around a time-and-space-traveling alien who looks human or something and he runs around space and time, saving people and aliens and whole planets and civilizations and things like that. He only goes by the name ‘the Doctor’. He’s kind of cute for a stick-thin guy. I only saw one or two episodes—not my kind of thing.”

“Thank you for summing that up for me,” Lupin said flatly with another grumble. “And it’s a lot more complex than that. You look Time Lord, not the other way around.”

“Of course it is. But since we don’t have tarbis or whatever—”

“TARDIS. It’s _TARDIS_. It stands for ‘ _Time And Relative Dimension In Space_ ’.”

“—it doesn’t help us in any means whatsoever. Unless you have that little blue box hidden in your jeans…”

“Ooh, so sorry, I left the TARDIS in my _other_ pair of pants. The ones at the hotel with all the doodles and stuff on them.”

“Right…” Bish sucked in a breath and suddenly stopped, holding it when she realized that she and Lupin still had company. “What…were we talking about again?”

“How we got here,” Alphonse provided, giving his brother a side-eyed glance. Edward was just as stunned into silence by the conversation as he was, it seemed. His moment of silence ebbed away quickly enough and he offered another scowl to the two women.

“Just because there’s a show depicting time travel, doesn’t mean you actually can. I’m betting it’s all fictional, isn’t it? It doesn’t sound real at all.”

“And you would know time travel doesn’t exist from experience? Time isn’t linear, it’s…wibbly-wobbly. And we’re getting off track again. Sort of.” Lupin scrunched her face up. Now she really was wishing the Doctor and the TARDIS were real, too. He could probably straighten this entire thing out and explain it…maybe. “Look, all I’m saying is, how is it that me and Bish—who are from the year 2009— and you and your brother—who are from the year 1926—end up here in the year 1738, huh? Can you really explain that?”

“It’s impossible,” Edward insisted, although now Lupin could hear the doubt in his voice.

“We went through two weeks of this ourselves while y’all were out. We tried to discredit things, but everything’s legit. If these people were playing a character, they would have broken it somehow, someway by now. And I doubt that there is a single sailing ship on the planet—from your time or ours—that doesn’t have _something_ electronic on it. Whether it’s GPS, or a motor and engine, or sonar of some sort—hell, they don’t even a radio system anywhere. We looked up and down, from bow to aft, for something when we could. This is _real_. And the sooner you guys accept that, the sooner we can move on to the more pressing matter.”

Another pregnant pause lingered in the air. Edward’s face relaxed somewhat into shrewd contemplation. Alphonse was much the same, although he looked more open to the idea.

“Let’s say that, hypothetically, we believed you two. That we all somehow managed to travel back in time to the year 1738,” Edward started off slowly, as though he was still choosing his words carefully. “How is it we all came here, on this ship? And why have you two already signed up to sail with these people, these… _pirates_.”

This was the story they needed to get to. It was something Lupin and Bish had considered themselves for the two long, grueling weeks they had spent trying to nurse the Elric brothers back to health. It was an overplayed conversation they had recited, refined, and rehearsed when they had something halfway decent to tell the two young men if they ever asked. They were merely hoping for more time until this conversation.

Lupin took in a measured breath, feeling her palms grow slick and hot again. She wiped her hands on her jeans, glancing upwards when someone stalked across the deck above, their boots thumping noisily along the wood.

“Bish and I were on vacation. I just finished up high school. She’s more than halfway through college. We decided to take a few weeks off, and go touring the Caribbean and parts of the Bahamas. We…planned it for over a year and a half, almost two. We saved up, and my parents helped out some, too.”

Lupin paused, and for a little too long. Bish picked up where Lupin left off. “We were taking a tour out on one of the islands and after we left on a boat, we got hit by a storm. It came out of nowhere, or just about. It hit us so fast. Everything went crazy. We managed to get inside the wheelhouse, but everyone else didn’t make it. They got washed away by the waves. And the captain he…he died. He broke his neck or brained himself or something. We were the only ones left. Not long after we both woke up, we saw your longboat floating close by. We managed to get it over by us, and saw you and your brother were still alive but just barely.”

“And the other man in our boat?” Alphonse prodded.

“He was dead already, we swear. He was starting to stink because of the sun speeding up the decomposition process.” Lupin said. “We managed to get you inside the wheelhouse, cool you both down some and get some water and bits of food in you. That’s when Jack and the _Pearl_ came sailing by us. He sent a party to scout out the ship, not knowing we were on it.”

Bish grinned. “You should’ve seen Loopy. She set one guy on fire with a _flare gun_ , sent the rest of them running. Jack came on board after that. We negotiated everything…or almost everything.”

She chuckled a little, and it even elicited a surprising but small smile on Edward’s face. He glanced at her, and she shrugged.

“He was going to take you and your brother and leave us behind. He said we’d be picked up within a day or so by someone else, because of how close to a main supply shipping lane we were, but…we saw your arm and your leg. We saw your wallets too, and the dates in your IDs and the paperwork in your coats. We knew if he took you, things might not have gone well. You’d be dead by now, most likely.”

“But how did Jack know that something was wrong? How could he have known that you weren’t exactly from this time period?” Alphonse pressed further, his lips pursing into a curious line.

Lupin and Bish shrugged simultaneously. “Small things here and there. It didn’t take him long to figure out _something_ was up. But his curiosity managed to save our hides and let us negotiate a way to stay, to help you guys out.”

“You took a risk,” Edward muttered. “And a really big one. I’m not going to pretend I know a lot about pirates, but from the stories I’ve heard, they’re not exactly painted in a sympathetic or even decent light.”

“They pillage, plunder, steal, filch, and oh yeah, they rape too. Yeah, we know. Jack is…different. Ordered his men not to touch us. And he hasn’t made a move on us either. There’s always an unusual black sheep hiding in the herd.” Lupin defended sharply. “We’re not stupid. Don’t talk down on us like that.”

“What exactly did you sign up for?”

“We signed the logbook. That entails to sailing under Jack’s command so long as he’s captain of the _Black Pearl_ and performing just about the same duties as the men here do, but we’ve been on bedrest duty with you two since we have.” Lupin hesitated, and slid a sideways look toward Bish. The other woman nodded.

“How much do you know about the Caribbean pirates of this time period? About the important figureheads of the history that’s going on now?”

The question threw the Elric brothers for a loop and it showed. Edward blinked, looking confused and grumpy all at once. It was actually kind of cute and funny…if he wasn’t projecting that sour look at her and Bish, Lupin mused. Alphonse held back more, although he looked just as thrown off just as his brother. Just less angry about it. He shook his head.

“No. We don’t really know all that much, really.”

“Well, if you studied your history, you’d know that Captain Jack Sparrow is a pretty prominent historical figure around this time. And he knew quite a few others, too. He’s almost on par with Edward “Blackbeard” Thatch, Benjamin Hornigold, Charles Vane…” Lupin paused, recollecting herself. “Anne Bonny. Mary Read. They were pirates, yes, but pirates who sought to change things for the better of people not born into privilege. They don’t just pillage and pilfer at random. Long story short, they were famous, very famous, back in the Golden Age of Piracy, about twenty years ago as of now. Jack’s the new thing that’s in right now for this time period.”

She held up an index finger, and then pointed it toward the brothers. “And he knew quite a lot of other pirates and…impressionable, mysterious people who might be able to help us. Someone who’s way too advanced for this time period, and curiously so.” She leaned back again, hands folding together in her lap. “He knows a woman named Tia Dalma and history texts have all commonly suggested that she was more than she seemed. Like, supernaturally gifted. Maybe she could help us”

There was a very fine and suppressing silence that followed Lupin’s words.

Edward burst out laughing after nearly a minute. Lupin’s face grew hot and pink in embarrassment and she was glad that it was too dim for him to notice. She felt even more humiliated when Alphonse joined in a little. She felt Bish’s hand on her arm, felt only marginally better at the silent show of support. Instead, she weathered the laughter and forced down the biting words she wanted to unleash.

“That’s your plan? To find some random woman this guy may know, according to your time period’s history books?”

Lupin swallowed down more bitter words and tasted bile at the back of her throat.

“Once upon a time, people once believed that the earth was flat. That the earth revolved around the sun. Stories and myths all around the world revolve around some kind of truth. And right now, we’re time travelers. Something that scientists have only _dreamed_ of, and you’re going to sit there and laugh at me, at the idea that maybe there’s some merit to my idea?” She clenched her jaw, her shoulders rigid and tight.

Alphonse lowered his gaze, looking sheepish. Edward kept his gaze trained on the smaller woman, unconvinced.

“That doesn’t exactly strengthen your argument that anyone can help us.”

“It doesn’t exactly weaken it either, since you can’t seem to craft some kind of argument to dismiss me or produce an alternative choice to turn to, either.” She spat back, gritting her teeth hard enough to make her jaw ache.

“Loopy…chill out. Seriously,” Bish chided gently. She patted her friend on the arm, turning back to the Elric brothers. “Look…I’m not going to pretend I know what’s going on or how, exactly, we got here. But you can’t either, because you clearly don’t.”

That earned a grudging response from Edward. She raised a brow, but it would have to do for now. She took in a deep breath, trying to ignore how badly it smelled down in the hold. She let out the breath. “Just…let’s start over, maybe take it back a bit and try to figure it out. What do you guys remember from before? When you were sure you were back in 1926.”

“We…got hit by a storm ourselves. We were on a freighter ship, heading toward the Caribbean. It was a mistake. We should have been going to Europe, but the ship’s course got changed last minute and we hadn’t known until we were on it, heading out to sea. The ship, it…it sank after the storm came on us. And everyone…” Alphonse’s voice dropped suddenly and his fists clenched at his side. “We couldn’t help them. They either drowned or died from heat stroke in the longboat with us…”

Edward’s dismay was briefly replaced by contemplation. “A flash of green…”

“What?”

“There was…a green flash. Right before we got to the lifeboats, when we had to fight our way over. Alphonse, do you remember?”

“A little. I thought it was lightning. Or the ship’s lighting fixtures, though.”

“We saw green too. A lightning flash before everything…” Bish faltered, tripping over the disjointed recollection. It sounded crazy saying it out loud, but then again, so did this conversation. If she ever got back home, she didn’t know how she’d even begin to explain this to people.

 _If we get back,_ her mind supplied glumly. She glanced at Lupin, and wondered if this ploy would work. The Elric brothers were smart and trying to tug at their curiousity with something of supernatural origins…

It was risky.

“It was green for us, too.” Lupin pressed on, picking up where Bish fell quiet. “Green lightning. Bright green. After that, the storm got worse, and I dunno if we blacked out, but it was just me and Bish when we woke up. The captain was in the wheelhouse, but…like Bish said, he was dead. Dunno what happened.”

A stunned silence turned into a quiet brooding. Edward had a distant look in his eyes, a hand brought up to rub at his chin while his brows drew up tight and contemplative. Alphonse had a similar expression, studying the two women. Lupin waited, almost like she was holding her breath.

“Something happened to us. Something strange, and something we can’t explain right now. Wish we could, but…if, by any chance this woman, Tia Dalma, could help us…I think it’d be worth a shot. Jack’s the only one that knows where she is, though. Me and Bish already talked to him. The only way we could get him to agree to take us to her, after he’s finished up with some business in the Mediterranean, is if we signed up on his crew. He doesn’t want idle hands and mouths sitting around, doing nothing on his ship. It’s a fair enough trade, to be honest. We do some work around here and he gets us to who we need to see.”

Lupin was calmer now. Bish was grateful for that. If her friend had gotten any worse with her temper like usual, they could have lost this opportunity.

“That’s why we signed on, okay? Not because we wanted to, but it was because we had to. If there’s a chance someone can help us, we’re taking it. And if they can’t, then maybe—maybe they know someone else who can.”

Bish reached over and squeezed Lupin’s shoulder, gently and carefully tilting it back ever so slightly. Lupin seemed to gain the hint and leaned in the direction her friend was directing her. Lupin took a breath, long and slow and cleansing, glancing at the Guatemalan woman briefly, then flicked her gaze back toward the Elric brothers.

“This…is a lot to take in. I know. Like Loopy mentioned…it took us nearly two weeks to kind of accept it ourselves. We thought it’d all come apart after a few days, but it didn’t.” She said, looking at her friend again. “We should give them some time to think about this.”

“I—” Lupin snapped her jaw shut with a clack, thinking better on arguing when Bish glared at her quietly. “Right…yeah.”

Bish stood and after another quiet gesture, Lupin did as well, stiff and reluctant.

“We’ll be topside, if you need us. Just give a holler.”

With that said, they left, leaving the two young men in the relative peace of the hold.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Edward stood after a while, his skin crawling and his body idling with unspent energy. He wanted to do something, anything, to make this sensation dissipate, and yet at the same time, he had the urge to lie back down. He was brimmed with too much information and simultaneously, not enough. It threw him for a loop, and he churned with both distaste and a brewing desire to know more.

Time travel. The very idea seemed inconceivable, but if the two women were right—if they were right—then they had gone back in time, to another age entirely. It was a shame it had been during an age of piracy, and not of intellectual and scientific enlightenment. His stomach gave an anxious gurgle, both from the idea and from a growing hunger he hadn’t noticed until now. He sighed, leaning against a support beam.

“This…I don’t want to believe this is real, but…Alphonse. If this really happened, then we’re stuck.”

“Unless we can trust their word on this Tia Dalma figure. If she can help us, maybe we’ll have a chance to get back.”

“We need more information.” Edward nodded. He grimaced suddenly, a sour taste building at the back of his mouth. “And the only person who can provide us that is our captain.”

He saw Alphonse nod from the corner of his eye. Edward pushed away from the support beam, snapping his fingers. “Maybe we could create a mutiny. Force him to tell us.”

“Brother…” Alphonse shot him a disapproving look. Edward grumbled.

“Fine. No mutiny.”

“I don’t see it going well if we tried.”

“Spoilsport.”

“But that still leaves the only option we have, and the one thing we have to do to get to it.”

Edward shuddered and scowled. “I hate this.”

“It could be worse.”

“Oh, yeah? How?”

“Spanish Inquisition. Holy Crusades. Anything with swords and religion mixing in, really.”

“How’s that any worse?”

“They’d think we were two heathens spouting heresy and Devil-worship and needed to be put down by any means necessary.” Alphonse shrugged, offering a wry smile. “Or worse, we were insane and possessed by demons. They did worse to those people than the heretics.”

“…when you put it that way, I think I prefer the pirates. At least we can scare _them_ away with superstition, not bring them by the droves with torches and pitchforks and broadswords.”

Edward clenched his automail fist tightly, heard the telltale and familiar creak of the metal joints. The clothe glove joined in on the chorus bit, adding its own little voice to it all. He expelled a long breath, slow and impatient and angry and so much more all at once. Luck never seemed to be on his and Alphonse’s sides. For once, he’d like things to go smooth and easy, and not so much running around, getting delayed or stopped completely. For years, that seemed to be the tune he and Alphonse had been dancing to.

Now they were being hijacked by time itself, and thrown off their path completely by at least two hundred years. Edward glanced up, lips pulling into a hard, thin line.

“Guess this means we have to talk to the captain again.” He pulled a face. Alphonse stood, brushing imaginary lint from his trousers.

“I guess it does. Should we talk to the girls first or just go straight there?”

Edward turned his gaze over to his brother, realizing just how tired his brother sounded and how he looked it even more. He was sure he probably felt even worse. A bell pealed somewhere above them, clamouring the time at loud, even intervals. He sighed, allowing his shoulders to sag only momentarily before hitching them back up. Just a little longer. He had to hold on just a little longer and then he could rest again.

He resisted the urge to groan, realizing the decision he and his brother were about to take. It didn’t seem like they had a lot of options, given they weren’t exactly able to send out a radio S.O.S. to anyone.

“I’d rather get this done and over with as soon as possible. We’ll go straight to him.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


	7. Sea Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**  
  
_Don’t you realize that the sea is a home of water? All water is off on a journey unless it is in the sea, and it’s homesick, and bound to make its way home someday._  
**\- Zora Neale Hurston  
**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The cold salty air clung to and seeped down deep into everything. That meant his bones. He hated that. It made his entire body ache, and worse still, where flesh and automail met, it hurt like hell. Edward knew couldn’t lose face, though, not here among all these men. They were testing him and Alphonse, seeing what made them snap and what made them tick. Some were subtler than others. Most had no subtlety to speak of, though. Often enough, those ones would try to berate and goad him and his brother into some kind of altercation—their way of hazing the two newest crewmembers, perhaps? Alphonse seemed to take it in stride and even tight-lipped humour—to an extent, of course. He didn’t allow them to try and roll him and had already put plenty of them in their place quickly enough. It established a mindset amongst the rest to leave him be and even a grudging respect for the younger Elric brother.

But Edward…they had a harder time resisting. They always found the right button to push and he didn’t know what enraged him more: the fact that they found the button in the first place or the fact that that he always reacted, even when he knew they were only doing it to goad him.

He was not amused.

Especially when they started in on his height. Besides the dwarf, Marty, he was perhaps the smallest male on board.

“’E’s the spittin’ image of a li’l ole cabin boy, ‘e’s so small! ‘Ey, cabin boy! Why don’t you stop gettin’ underfoot and help out below decks well away from us that have real work to do, eh?”

It took his brother and the two girls to pull him away from throttling the offenders to death. Or at least throwing them overboard. That was always a better alternative, right?

He more or less ended up being forced down below decks before it got out of hand—and it was almost always one step away from getting there. He was stuck on scrubbing duty half the time—swabbing musty mops across the decks below, spreading tar along the planks to create a seal and make them resistant to any water seepage. The tar itself stank, but it worked.

The other half, he was stuck on kitchen duties with the lean little woman, Lupin. She had more know-how when it came to certain aspects of cooking, but other times she required some manner of training herself. That often came from Tearlach, a heavy set and thick-limbed balding man with a mischievous grin, or Lejon, one of the men whom Lupin had nearly set aflame with her flare gun. They had apparently already reconciled the matter, but Edward often caught Lejon looking over his shoulder in nervous fits when Lupin was at his backside.

But, regardless of all that, the two men caught her up and in turn, Edward as well. The monstrous appliance that cooked all their meals was confusing at times, and so were the cooking methods, but she seemed to catch on quick enough to help him out. Bish often times found herself drawn to the tight quarters of the kitchen—if it could even be called that—to watch, chat, help when she could. Alphonse was more likely tasked with helping top deck, but he came down whenever he could.

The days crawled by slower than snails. The sun itself was dragging its feet, hot and bright in the sky, a cheerfully mocking yellow disc that had no cares to give to his woes. He sometimes didn’t know what was worse: the agonizing crawl that was the passage of time, or the bitter ache in his joints from being surrounded by constant moisture. He was afraid his automail would start locking up in the joints, the wires would corrode and the metal would rust away.

The salty brine wasn’t helping much until Lupin found a stash of oil for him their first week working together. She even filched a little flask for him to carry it around on his person. It kept the rust at bay and his joints lubricated to a point, at the very least. When he had asked her about where she’d found it, her eyes danced with impish mirth and she only answered, “Mischief managed.”

She was a strange woman.

But, despite that, he had a feeling that she and her friend were on his and Alphonse’s side.

That had to count for something.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“You want me to what, now?”

Tearlach huffed, trying to steady his patience as he motioned to the sheep crowded together in the _Pearl_ ’s hold. Lupin stared at him expectantly, brows raised for an explanation.

“The sheep, pigs, chickens and that goat there need to feed and drink, just like the rest o’ us,” he repeated. He motioned to a row of cages that housed quite a few chickens, and a pen that had two good-sized piglets. They snuffled along their pen, pink noses pressed against the planks. A goat in another pen bleated plaintively, watching the two of them. “But because they feed an’ drink, they also excrete shit and piss, just the same as the rest o’ us. So, that means somebody has t’ do the cleaning, the feeding, and the watering.”

“And the whole point of them being here is to…feed us as well.”

Tearlach flicked a hand in the air, an affirmative sign to accompany his grin. “Exactly, girl. When the pigs is big enough—or we don’t have enough hard tack and salted pork reserves—these little fellows will stave off the hunger. Not for long, but hopefully long enough. Sheep make wool and we need that to craft up thread and clothing. Or we could sell the sheared off raw materials, if we’re feeling generous enough to do fair trade and not just steal the provisions we might need. And the chickens—they give us eggs. That goat gives us milk, and on occasion when we can make it proper and right, some cheese.”

“You don’t drink it raw, do you? Straight from the udder?” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. Tearlach flapped a hand, looking rather unconcerned.

“It’s good for you, innit? Delicious. A break from the water and the rum when it suits you, yes?”

“It’s…unsanitary. Drinking straight from the udder is…not good for you. You can get sick because of that.”

Now it was Tearlach’s turn to wrinkle his brow at the small girl before him. He crossed his massive arms across his broad chest, staring at her through narrowed eyes.

“What you mean, it’s not good for you?”

Lupin shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “You gotta pasteurize it, if you want the milk to…you know. Not kill you slowly from the inside out. Bacteria and disease-laden microbes are a bitch.”

For a while, the pirate didn’t say much. He just stared, an immoveable wall of flesh trying to wrap its head around the concept she was trying to project to him. He pursed his lips and glanced off toward the sheep for a moment. One of them bleated loudly at him. The others joined in chorus shortly after. A chicken squawked and beat its wings against the wicker basket it was enclosed inside of before settling just as quickly.

“You come up with that all by yourself? Or did someone teach you that?”

“It’s…common sense. You gotta heat up the milk before you drink it. Heat kills off the chance of getting sick. It’s like eating raw meat—you just don’t do it. You gotta cook that a little before you take a bite, right?”

Tearlach stared at her, boggled further by the miniature info dump. He eyed her beadily for a few seconds longer. Finally, he admitted, “You certainly know a lot more than I thought. Have you done much traveling to learn all this?”

Lupin hesitated, suddenly feeling like a blabbermouth. _Oops. Shouldn’t have opened my mouth._

“Uh…formal education. Knowledge is power, man. And it can get you places.”

“But where did you say you learned this—”

“Look, dude, you don’t wanna know and I’d have to kill ya if I told ya. Let’s drop it, shall we?” Lupin remarked, offering her best winning smile, even if it felt strained and tight. Tearlach studied her a moment longer, then burst out laughing, clapping a meaty hand on her narrow shoulder. It nearly sent her reeling down to meet the floor face-first, but she caught herself just in time.

“Strange girl, you are, but I like you!”

“Oh, good. I was afraid I’d have to work extra hard to be liked,” she retorted. She cleared her throat and motioned back to the penned in animals. “Okay, so we established sheering wool, collecting eggs, milk and maybe cheese, and…possibly meat when things get tight on food. Cleaning up and watering the animals is a must and I assume making sure their pens are cleaned of excess moldy things is also a must?”

“Exactly. Sharp girl.” Tear laughed and clapped her shoulder again, motioning toward the galley. “And over here, you’ve seen it, the cook stove. Now, if we’re cooking any meat—or fish, if we do some harpoonin’—we’ll do it with the cooking nets hanging up there.”

He continued to show the young woman around, pointing out the essentials and tips needed to use the massive piece of archaic machinery. Inside, a part of her was thrilled that she was doing something productive now, instead of drifting along with doldrums on the mind.

Another part of her was disappointed that she was being delegated to kitchen duties. At least it wasn’t Bish in her place. Where Lupin couldn’t do beans with needlework of any sort, Bish couldn’t cook beans, period.

The _Black Pearl_ , thusly, was safe from burning down a second time around.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Oh…my god. You want me to what, now?”

“You mentioned you were handy with a needle. We need them sails stitched up, tight and proper.”

“I can crochet. Not knit. _Crochet_!”

Ladbroc gave her a baffled look, brows drawing in close together as he stared down at the young woman before him.

“Crochet…now that’s a technique I ain’t never heard of.”

“Of course not,” Bish grumbled, her tone inflecting a heavy dose of sarcasm. That, Ladbroc caught onto. He scowled.

“Look. You’re going to learn a trade on this ship, per Captain Sparrow’s orders, whether you like it or not. And you’re lucky you have me here, because _I_ actually know how to repair the sails, but we need a secondary in case…”

The young man hesitated, falling short of himself rather quickly. Bish understood the implications rather quickly, but said nothing as well.

 _In case you die,_ she wanted to say, and something rather poignant suddenly dawned on her. Lupin had shot at him with the flare gun weeks ago. If he hadn’t thought quickly enough to dive into the water before he caught properly, he very likely could have died. And if he was the only one with even an ounce of an idea of how to repair sails, then Jack would’ve been shit out of luck if his sails were damaged. Especially if the others weren’t proficient enough in repairing the sails like Ladbroc was.

If Lupin was taking initiative to learn how to use one station on this ship, one she could do decently enough, then Bish could do the same. Admittedly, some of the tools and equipment they were going to use weren’t completely familiar, but they’d learn. Bish stared over the assortment of tools, trying to avoid breathing too deeply—it still stank down in the hold to her.

Ladbroc was waiting, impatient and expectant at getting back to continuing his lesson.  When he was satisfied he wouldn’t be interrupted, he continued. Motioning to the series of tools, he picked up one by its wooden handle. The tool bit itself looked like a wedge of cheese made of wood.

“This is the seam rubber. It makes creases along a sail before you start making seams and notch everything together.” He moved on, motioning to a series of knives with wooden hilts. “And these, you’ve got to be careful. You can’t just stick a knife into a sail’s canvas and expect the same results. They each have their own uses and work with the canvas differently. A sharp knife is going to _cut_ the sails. Or another person, whichever you want. A dulled knife is going to give you a marker on where to work. Same with the needles. You don’t want a sharp needle for some of the work; it’ll just cut up and damage the material. A dull needle will only part the weave of the fabric and make it easier to slip the thread through.”

Bish listened attentively, taking in the information she was being fed as best she could. Ladbroc continued with more or less an ounce more of patience than before, although it was still strained. He avoided contact with the young woman as best he could, Bish noticed, flinching even at the slightest motion made toward or around him.

“What the hell is your problem?” She finally asked. A small part of her reasoned she probably should have been a bit more respectful towards a pirate who carried a sword at his side. But the annoyed, lizard-part of her brain overrode that common sense half of things.

Ladbroc flinched again, glancing away from her.

“With all respect, Miss Ortiz…I don’t think you belong here, frankly. It’s bad luck t’ be havin’ one woman on board, never mind two of you.” He said, his lips tensing into a thin, terse line. “I think the captain should have left you where you were, let someone else deal with you lot. We would have done fine, with or without those two men you pulled from the drink. Whether they lived or died, doesn’t make much difference. The sea gives and takes, but only as she sees fit, not when you want her to.”

“You know, it’s funny that you’ll make your ship’s figureheads after naked women, call the sea with female pronouns, and even name ships after females directly or indirectly. And yet, once you bring an actual, human woman on board, stop the presses, she’s bad luck! Get her off the ship!”

Ladbroc narrowed his eyes at her, lips pulled into a thin line. “Your point?”

“My point? My point is, it’s hypocritical. You bring all these female variations and reminders with you out to sea, and yet, an actual woman has you all scared shitless.”

“But women bring bad luck, they anger everything that lives out there, bring more storms upon poor sailors such as ourselves—”

“That right there, that’s a load of horseshit and you know it. You get hit by storms, whether or not we, the women, are on board the ship. You just came out of a really bad hurricane, it sounds like, before we were even found. You lost the Royal Navy in the process—sounds like we’re more like good luck charms than anything. Maybe keep us around, we’ll keep up with evading the big bad enemy and find some easier ships to board and steal from, huh?”

She offered her best winning grin, nudging the taller man her elbow. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, but he offered a nervous smile in return regardless.

“Perhaps…I need to reevaluate things.” He said this tentatively, only half-convinced, but of what, Bish wasn’t sure. She motioned back to the tool bench.

“Okay, well, that’s a start. I mean, if you’re keeping us on board, might as well keep an open mind. So, what else is there to this stuff?”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Alphonse had always known a life of hard work. Maybe not in his current body, but even before the armour, he would get ghostly sensations that his physical body once remembered. The island was always most prominent in his mind, of his time with his brother learning to survive: building fires, a shelter that wouldn’t blow over in the softest of breezes, hunting for food…

He thought he had known what a rough life once was. But out here, it truly was tough.

Most of the men had sailed on the seas most if not all their lives, and yet, a good majority of them didn’t know how to swim, or hadn’t learned it properly. He had that advantage, at the very least, working for him. Everything else, however, not so much.

On his first few days, his hands bled and blistered up from all the line-pulling, deck-scrubbing, and constant release-and-reefing of the sails, depending on the conditions of the wind. He almost would have envied his brother, if he didn’t understand completely the situation he was in: the metal wasn’t meant for a life at sea. The salt would destroy the limb, slowly but surely, if Edward hadn’t found a way to lubricate the joints and keep the wires from wearing thin. How he did it, he still hadn’t divulged, at least not past Lupin’s name drop and that was it.

But learning the ropes, so to speak, was working well for him and Edward. The crew quickly grew to respect the both of them. When work was at a lull, they often offered them a position in card games, dice games, board games, even accompanying them to learn some new tunes. After the first two, however, Edward immediately passed, based on the bawdy nature of the lyrics.

“Oh, come now, lad, they’re not all that bad!” Gibbs laughed at Edward’s retreating backside close to sunset one evening. “There’s _Old Billy Riley, Drunken Sailor, Whiskey Johnny_ …”

“ _Bully in the Alley_ ,” Tearlach added with a grin.

“ _Captain Kidd_!” Marty said thirdly with a matching smile. “Can’t forget about the infamous Captain Kidd.”

“ _Drunken Sailor_ ’s a classic!” Another voice piped up. Alphonse had to watch with interest as Edward slowly turned back around, eyeballing the other men with his harsh glare that had rightly put them all in their place.

“Mister Gibb’s already mentioned _Drunken Sailor_ , you flea-infested nancy! You’ve forgotten _Johnny Boker, Padstow’s Farewell_ , and _Randy Dandy-O_!”

Edward offered them a slightly more appealing look at that point, wary but willing to listen further. Alphonse knew his brother had never been a complete aficionado for music, true, but it didn’t mean he _didn’t_ enjoy it, either.

The ones who, surprisingly and yet simultaneously predictably, didn’t find any problems with any of the songs, were the girls. They sang along right with the men after learning all the lyrics they could. They seemed to have an easier time transitioning into this place and time than he or his brother have been having.

Then again, they both had two weeks on us in comparison. We were too sick to do much.

Still…it was a good sign. Or so he hoped.

Or rather, he should have expected, so he _thought_.

 During one of his breaks and in the lull of actual work needing to be done, he found the time to actually explore the ship. Below decks, there were three levels. The first held the crews’ quarters—there were hammocks and racks where the men slept. The galley, the brig, and the hold for food, drink, gunpowder, cannonballs, extra ropes and sails, were also on the first level.

He could smell evening chow was already underway.

On the level below that, goods for trade were stored such as spices, tobacco, and sugar. Both levels contained the cannons, big and monstrous things of thick iron and steel, sitting atop a wooden and wheeled station.

On the third and lowest level was the bilge, where the smelliest of seawater occasionally stored itself, along with the rocks used for ballast. Every few weeks, Mister Gibbs told them, the bilge pumps were needed to drain the bilge, and tar was to be mopped all along the wood, to prevent further leaks.

From the smell of things, Alphonse was guessing that day was coming soon.

He knew this all by heart now, but he still found new little tidbits to find, but his exploration came to a halt when he heard…sobbing.

Alphonse canted his head to the side, unsure if he was hearing right, or if it was a trick of the ship. The _Black Pearl_ made all sorts of noises, some he was still getting used to. It sounded like she was constantly settling, but…

And there it was again. Choked out, stifled up, but still identifiable as a sob.

He pushed through the interior of the ship, past the cots and hammocks and toward the curtained off section that served as Lupin and Bish’s makeshift quarters. He paused by one of the support beams the curtain was nailed to, hesitating, then knocked on the wood. There was a clatter beyond, a soft string of curses, and then Bish appeared, shoving the mottled curtain aside with one hand and the other was shoving her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, can I help you? Or is someone else trying to shove some stupid task they don’t want to do onto me again?”

Alphonse hesitated further, taking in the tear-stained and blotchy face, the slightly puffy and red eyes.

“I…don’t know anything about anyone trying to charge you with their tasks, but…I was coming over to check up on how things were. See if you needed anything, by any chance?” He offered a reassuring smile. “I’m on my time off.”

Bish’s narrow-eyed gaze eased up and she took the time to dry her cheeks and straighten her glasses in the meantime.

“Unless you’ve got a time machine in your pants, there’s not much you can do right now.”

Alphonse offered her a wry smile this time. “Sorry. I left the time machine in my luggage on our freighter that sank.”

“How rude and inconvenient. Loopy did the same, only it was at our hotel room.” She hiccupped and smiled, looking slightly less wary and upset now.

“How rude, indeed,” he agreed. Bish leaned against the beam, pushing the curtain a little behind her now. “Is…everything all right?”

Her expression fell a little and she ducked her gaze. “It’s…it’s nothing.”

“Is it really nothing?” He pressed, his tone suggesting it obviously wasn’t ‘nothing’. Bish faltered, visibly reluctant to answer him. After too long a silence, he realized she most likely wasn’t going to answer him at all. But then, after chewing her lip for a few seconds, she cleared her throat.

“Just…some homesickness, is all. Yeah, my family drives me fucking crazy, and they can be dicks, especially my sister but…I miss them still. I mean, it’s great I have Loopy here…it’s not same, you know? Or well, maybe you don’t. _You_ have your family here.”

A little bit of her tone was coloured with jealousy, he noted, but not much. He sighed, allowing his shoulders to slouch slightly.

“True, although he tends to drive me a little up the walls sometimes. At the very least, though, in your situation, you’re not alone. That much you can be grateful for, right?”

She nodded at his words. “No, no, no. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so glad that I’m not alone, far from it. I just wish it wasn’t so…far from home. And about two hundreds years in the past before even my great-grandparents were born. I mean…what if we change shit so drastically that we aren’t born? What if I killed one of my distant relatives or some shit?”

“Well, do you plan on tracking them down and doing that?”

“No…”

“I don’t think you have much to worry about that, then.” He offered another reassuring smile. “You’ll be fine. If your friend is right about the woman Jack knows, then maybe we’ll be home soon. We just need to get through this trip Jack needs to make.”

“Ugh. I hope so. Seriously, the makeshift products I can use for my hair can only do so much,” she smiled a little more genuinely, and he did so as well.

“Perhaps wherever we stop next, we can look together. It’d probably be best to travel in groups, anyway.”

Rumour had it that they were to be stopping in Spain, right before passing the Rock of Gibraltar, in which they would slip through the tiny passage between Africa and Europe into the Mediterranean Sea and onwards. Where their final destination was, it wasn’t entirely clear. The only person who seemed to know was Jack himself. He had yet to divulge the information to the rest of the crew. Alphonse had a feeling Jack wouldn’t. Not now, anyways. He just didn’t seem to pop out as the type who would to Alphonse.

Bish smiled at him, looking a little brighter than when he first found her.

“Thanks. I think I’d like that. And maybe we can find a place to get a bath or some new clothes. I didn’t exactly pack my purse with an extra pair of…anything. Other than my glasses, that is.” She tapped the frames of the glasses she wore for effect, still smiling.

“Hopefully,” he agreed. “At least, we should have earned enough for just those things by the time we dock in Spain.”

That was still several weeks away, however. Sailing across the Atlantic wasn’t a quick ordeal, not in a sailing ship. It was just barely bearable when he and Edward had done it on a freighter. He just hoped that they could make it across without any incidents…or none that would end with them being tossed overboard.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he offered a hand to Bish. “Maybe some fresh air might help you feel better.”

She snorted. “I’m sick of the ‘fresh air’ here. It smells salty and fishy.”

She wrinkled her nose, and eyed the hold of the _Pearl_ , and amended herself with, “But it smells worse down here. Yeah, I think I’ll put up with sitting up there, though. Better than tar and shit.”

Alphonse laughed. He couldn’t help it. Despite the vulgarity of her choice of words, she had a funny yet honest way of speaking her mind. He appreciated that. It was a stark relief in the face of the beady-eyed, suspicious and tight-lipped half of the crew that made things somewhat tense. The other half, he wanted to believe they were sincere in their attempts to socialize and bring him and his brother into their fold. He was still trying to get a read on them, but that didn’t mean he completely trusted them. Bish, and by extension her friend Lupin, were perhaps slightly more trustworthy than the crew as a whole.

He offered his arm to Bish and she made a pleased little squeal, quickly taking to the offer. “My, a gentleman. I was beginning to worry that chivalry was dead.”

“Funny thing about chivalry; it never really mentions much in terms of kindness to others except in perhaps one verse. It’s actually evolved over time to until it settled on a code of ethics regarding morality, religion, and the ability to make war.”

Bish ticked up a brow and her lips quirked into a smirk. She gave his arm a meaningful pat. “I know this. It’s just an expression from my time period. A lot of people, mostly women, forget about the other parts and focus mainly on the ‘guys should be nice to girls’ bit of translation.”

Her smile softened and she gave a little nudge, signaling for the both of them to start walking. The smile became too infectious to resist and he complied quickly enough, adding in a bemused grin of his own.

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The sea shanties mentioned in this chapter are actual shanties that sailors sang to pass the time away while on the high seas. Additionally, early pasteurization techniques weren’t introduced until the late 18th century and crocheting techniques didn’t really come into being until about early 19th century, although there have been evidence of earlier and similar techniques that eventually led up to the favourite pastime. Also yes, Bishie-kins actually does crochet. I have many wonderful scarves and hats from her, and so does my daughter. We love them all! Winter is bearable with a pretty and functional scarf and hat to match. :P**
> 
>  
> 
> **Chivalry actually did focus mainly on the code of morality, religion, and military upstanding for those in knighthood way back in the medieval days. It eventually got written down into a more proper summary by Léon Gautier back in 1883, framed after the late medieval ethos that began it all. “Thou shalt be generous, and give largesse (charity, generosity, etc.) to everyone” and “Thou salt be everywhere and always the champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil” are commandments nine and ten, mapping out the whole “nice guy” routine that people tend to focus on when they think of “chivalry”. Commandments one through eight are roadmaps of following the church, loving your country, and pretty much warring against other peoples and not backing down to one’s enemies. That’s not all of it, but an oversimplified summary of the general direction.**


	8. Pride and Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO** _  
_

_“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.”_  
**-Elizabeth Bennet, “ _Pride and Prejudice_ ”**

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

It was a foggy, chilly morning Lupin woke up to when she arose from her cot. She shivered, wrapping her blanket around her, loathe to leave the miniscule warmth the scratchy wool spun clothe could provide her.

_I miss my bed. I miss my blankets. I miss listening to my music while I fall asleep._

She missed snuggling into the warmth of her perfect-comfy mattress. She missed a lot of things, like her iPod and her movies and computer. She missed her friends and her family. She wondered, in her groggy state, if her family missed her. For all the face she’s given and chest swelling she’s done to squash any doubt she could handle living on the ship, she was still homesick deep down. It sometimes made her blank out and think about home while she was trying to conquer the monstrosity of a stove-contraption in the galley or when she was learning how to make sailor’s knots or was committing to memory the anatomy of the _Black Pearl_.

That hopeful part of her was simply looking forward to meeting Tia Dalma and pleading hers and Bish’s and the Elric brothers their case, and that maybe Tia Dalma could help them. If she couldn’t, then they might very well be screwed. _  
_

_And unless the Doctor really is real…or hell, I’ll take the_ Star Trek _boys bouncing through time for all I care…_

There were fourth walls breaking down all around them, so why not? Anime and live action film characters were coming to life and colliding with one another, now all they needed was a television show character to complete the trifecta. It could very well happen.

Giddy little fantasies that were most likely never going to happen in the next five minutes aside, Lupin finally pushed herself out of her cot and began yanking her boots on. A few men besides herself were stretching and grousing to themselves awake as they too rose to greet the day. Tearlach was one of them and he waved her on as she passed him by.

“Get things going, girl. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth as she passed. She wrinkled her nose, catching a whiff of his breath.

_I think I miss toothpaste most of all. And breathe mints._

Hers probably wasn’t so pretty, either, so she couldn’t judge without being judged herself. She quietly nodded and scuttled along, passing the little brig with its thin iron-wrought bars. She paused long enough to light a lantern, and the orange glow provided soft warmth that made the air somewhat better. Outside, as she passed under a grate that showed what lay above, the sky was still dark and the lantern illuminated the fog as it swirled past in a slow and lazy mist. In about two hours, it’d be dawn and hungry men would expect a decent meal to put them in a good mood.

She continued on, finding the galley with relative ease. She could probably do it blindfolded by now.

Lupin started getting things going, firing up the old stove going and while it did so, she gathered up the morning food supplies. Leftover bread from last night’s meal was put to the side, while the cooking nets were taken down from their hanging hooks and nails. She gathered salted pork from one of the barrels and threw slabs of the meat into the nets. A barrel of dried grits was pried open and another bowl filled for the gruel. From the distilling water pumps, she filled pots up with water, and after putting them on the flattened cooking surface of the stove, dumped the meats inside.

The men who were roused from their sleep by the peel of the hourly bell came lumbering toward the galley. She pulled up a basket filled with fruits and another with hard tack they needed to get rid of out. Several grunted their thanks, while others simply took the foodstuffs without so much as a nod her way.

Tearlach brought up the rear, taking an apple from the basket and ignoring the tack offered with it. Lupin put the baskets away as he strode around the tight quarters, bare feet smacking against the brick slabs layered beneath the stove. The bricks, he had explained, were atop another layer of sand, to circumvent the heat of the fire from sinking into the wood. “If it did that, we’d have more problems than most.”

“Yeah, ninety-nine problems and a bitch ain’t one, it sounds like.”

Tearlach had burst out laughing and slapped Lupin’s shoulder when she had said that.

Now, he was inspecting her work, not saying a word as he did. She took an apple from one of the baskets—just barely fresh enough to stomach—and munched away at the fruit. A dribble of juice ran down her cheek on the first bite and she wiped away with the back of her hand.

“Good. You did good. Might be you can run this without me in the next week or so. What say you t’ that?”

“Um…I guess, sure?”

Lupin casted an uncertain stare at the monstrous contraption—at first thinking the idea of handling everything herself a bit overwhelming. But then as she stared over the separate components, she realized she knew this machine well enough by now. She knew what each part did and how to operate everything. Turning back to the older man, she nodded more confidently.

“Yeah. I can handle it.”

Tearlach grunted in approval, offering her a broad grin.

“Good. You start on yer own tomorrow.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

“ _Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley! Way, hey, bully in the alley! Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley! Bully down in shinbone al!_ ”

Voices crowed above the strain of the wind, and the more that joined in, the clearer the lyrics were. LeJon brought out a guitar and began strumming below near the staircase that led the quarterdeck. He beat roughened hands against the worn wood between plucking the strings.

“ _Sally is the girl that I love dearly! Way, hey, bully in the alley! Sally is the girl that I spliced dearly! Bully down in shinbone al!_ ”

Another scintillating bravado of the guitar filled the air, only to suddenly be cut short by a scream coming from the crow’s nest high up, just above the mainsail.

“Sail ho! Sail ho! Off the starboard side!”

Everyone snapped their traps shut at that and hurried to rush over to the gunwale on the starboard side. Eyes raked over the horizon expectantly before a chorus of whoops and hollers replaced the lyrics they had been singing moments earlier.

Mister Gibbs was already trotting off toward Jack’s cabin, but before he even raised a fist to pound on the thick wood, it was swinging open. Jack stood in the doorway, coat in place, hat atop his head, sword at his side and pistol in his sash. He stared up at the mainmast first, taking note of the man in the crow’s nest gesticulating excitedly out toward starboard. Jack dropped his gaze, dark eyes narrowing in the midday sun as he strode over where his other men gathered. He took note of the Elric brothers lingering on the fringes of the cluster, all tight-lipped and hard to read. When they noticed him, the elder brother, Edward, screwed up his face into a thinly veiled sneer. The younger lad, Alphonse, he kept his face carefully schooled from showing what he was thinking. Jack drifted past them, twiddling with a telescope in one hand. He whipped it out and the collapsible thing sprang to its full length and he brought the eyepiece up to peer through.

And there she was, a pretty little merchant ship, a hearty little sloop skimming along the blue-grey waters of the Atlantic. Jack did a cursory scan of the horizon, checking to make sure the ship was alone and found its lonesome position quite endearing. It was without escort, which made it all the more easy a target to hit. It was riding a little high in the water, true, but there were other sorts of supplies aboard the vessel, no doubt heading for the Caribbean for all the goodies and trinkets it had to offer. Not all treasure was silver and gold, after all. Sometimes, it was raw metals, sugars, tobaccos, and other spices that drew the attention of buying merchants.

“Cap’n?” Gibbs’ voice broke through his train of thought, but only just. Jack barely paid him much mind. “Cap’n, orders? Are we to take the ship?”

There was an expectant glee in his voice, a hopeful note not unlike a child asking their father for a treat. He was about to drop his scope, give the order and prepare for the eventual run down and attack—but he stopped just short when he noticed the colours the sloop was flying.

He realigned the scope, focusing on the flag that snapped in the wind and made out the sigil so blatantly displayed on its darkened canvas. With a flourish of his wrist, he turned to Mister Gibbs, noting from the corner of his eye his other men were watching him or the ship just as eagerly. Jack collapsed the scope in a hurry, stuffing it into his coat pocket.

“Leave ‘er lie. We sail on.”

Pirates were not the most subtle when it came to displaying their emotions. Most were like children; ready to take and to pitch a fit when they didn’t have their way. They used what little charm they possessed to ooze out just ‘one more’ out of anything in life—one more drink, one more fuck, one more ship, one more, one more, _one more_. It was what made pirates endearing in their line of work—what made them turn tail from the Navy’s forced employ and embrace a life of freedom that gave them _choice_. That kind of attitude was also well and good for a crew eager to fill their coin pouches to fritter away as they please; something that the Navy forgot to do: Pay their men a decent wage.

That same enthusiasm was why it almost disheartening to let his men down this go ‘round and sail on past the sloop as it passed them by in the distance. It shrank away into a pinprick and then into nothing as the _Black Pearl_ sailed eastward and the sloop toward the southwest. The rest of the day, he found the men staring up at him forlornly, as though expecting him to wave his hands at them and order the ship to turn around and give merry chase after the sloop. After all, the _Pearl_ could do so. They could quite possibly overtake it by nightfall, if even that. The temptation was there. He almost caught himself giving the order twice and stopped himself just in time.

As much as he’d enjoy taking what little supplies there were to be had from the little merchant ship, they had a schedule to keep. One that didn’t involve damaging the _Pearl_ any more than she already was. She had already taken a beating from the hurricane nearly a month prior; there was no need to add insult to injury.

Besides…it wouldn’t do to poke the bear—or one of her cubs.

The sight of the East India Trading Company’s insignia flying high from the sloop’s mast had put a chill down his spine and a sour taste in his mouth. It was enough to remind him why he was sailing so far on so little information and a whole lot of hope. What else was he, other than absolutely opportunistic if it meant staying his sentence and eventual audience with none other than the literal Devil himself?

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Let’s play a game.”

“Please no more. I think I owe half the crew what little wages I’ve earned and then some.”

“I said ‘let’s play a game’, not ‘let’s make a bet’. Otherwise, I’d ask for your arm.”

“ _What_? What the hell for?”

“To smack you upside the head for crying about wages you haven’t even seen,” Bish responded with an innocent smile. Edward scowled at the Guatemalan woman, yellow-gold eyes narrowed to slits. She looked away, feigning disinterest.

“What game,” he finally growled.

“Please don’t tell me you’re making a _Saw_ reference and John Kramer’s gonna pop up with that creepy little doll of his, is he?” A voice called from behind the stove. Bish rolled her eyes, snorting.

“Yes, Loopy, this ship is now under the Jigsaw Killer’s control and he’s set up nasty little traps for all of us and we all have to end up sawing off our own feet just to get out of the shackles he’s put us in. That’s not a boot you’re wearing, it’s really a manacle. Find yourself a knife and get to cutting.”

Lupin’s head popped around the corner of the stove and she stuck her tongue out at Bishquet and Edward.

“Smart ass.”

“It’s better than the alternative, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

Edward’s jaw tightened. He was stuck between annoyed and incredulous, and wasn’t sure where he was going to eventual settle. He finally decided to stay in between the two. When Bish turned back to him, she must have seen the faint confusion that tinged his mood because she grinned at him knowingly.

“Movie reference. They’re real big in our time.”

“Why?”

“Because then we can say, ‘I got that reference!’ and laugh at the inside joke we now share when others don’t get it. Also, the movie she’s referring to is about a serial killer named Jigsaw. First film he showed up in, he kidnaps two men and forces them to choose between starving to death while chained up in an abandoned basement bathroom, or to take the only tool in the room—a saw—and cut off their chained-up foot to escape. Hence the title ‘ _Saw’_. He shows up in multiple sequels. Or so I’ve heard, I haven’t seen them. It’s gotten incredibly diluted and too complex to follow anymore.”

He stared at her and finally settled on incredulity. “Sequels,” he repeated, somewhere between numb and dumb at the prospect.

Bish nodded patiently.

“Sequels. As in, films following the first one made.” She smiled broadly at him, looking rather proud. “Movies in our time, they can sometimes run up to three hours long.”

Now he was impressed and a little wary. It sounded…well, it sounded like something that was too good to be true. And the old adage that followed was that if I was too good to be true, it probably had a catch.

“No way. There’s no way. You’re trying to pull my leg.”

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Bish grinned back at him.

“Believe me, I tried,” Bish teased. His smiled dropped in an instant when he scowled at her and she waved her hands in mock surrender. “Calm down. Jesus Christ, I didn’t really. And I’m not lying. There are plenty of successful franchises that have multiple movies. Some, not so much, but they don’t need sequels. Like _10 Things I Hate About You_ , _Up_ , or _Year One_. They’ve even gotten colour and sound these days. Some are animated, too! Like, they’re hand-drawn. It’s pretty cool. You still only have silent, black-and-white films in the 1920s, right?”

He assessed her for a few lingering moments before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, we do. They’re pretty popular.”

“They get better,” Bish replied in a promising tone. “So, about that game…”

“What game is that? I thought we learned all the games already.”

Bish and Edward turned toward the new voice. From somewhere further beyond in the galley, Lupin called, “Hi, Al!”

Alphonse smiled as he approached and responded with a greeting in kind to the other woman, then nodded to his brother and to Bish.

“Is this a new habit of yours, brother? Coming down here to escape duty on the masts?”

“Do you realize how many times I’ve caught myself on the damned ropes in the joint of my foot, Alphonse? It’s a pain,” he grumbled back.

“Twelve times now, isn’t it?”

“Fourteen, as of this morning,” he grumbled back sourly. Lupin came back into view with a clatter of pots. Bish got up from the crate she had perched herself upon to help. Her voice was low and soft as she gently pried some of the load out of Lupin’s arms.

“Maybe you should wear boots,” Lupin suggested before shrugging. “Or I could just take your place and you take mine down here.”

“Well, that’s obvious. The shoes I own are crap when it comes to climbing the rope ladder, but there aren’t any boots my size on this ship that’ll make things any better. I need to visit a cobbler and get some handmade for me. And your suggestion is ridiculous, you’re not going up there.”

“…excuse me? Why not?”

Lupin had relieved herself of all her burden now and was pinning Edward with a stormy blue-grey gaze. Alphonse saw the signs of a confrontation early on. It seemed, unfortunately, that his brother had not, as he plowed head on with his answer instead of reconsidering his words.

“It’s dangerous. You’ll end up blowing away when the wind picks up the higher you go and hurting yourself. It’s not a smart idea for someone your size.”

“Oh-ho, you did _not_ just say that,” Bish muttered under her breath. Her dark brown eyes flicked between her best friend and the older Elric brother. Edward crossed his arms over his chest, looking adamant on the point.

“ _Excuse_ me? Someone of ‘ _my size_ ’? Have you _looked_ in a full-body mirror lately, because you are so not one to judge, midget man! You’re barely bigger than Marty!”

All things considered, no, no Edward was not barely taller than Marty. He actually had a good chunk of height up on the dwarf. Lupin knew that. Bish knew that. So did Alphonse. And, yes, so did Edward. But there was also that petty little bitch of a detail he had with others so much as grazing the subject of his height. And he did what Alphonse knew what he’d do.

He blew up.

“ _OH, LIKE YOU’RE ONE TO TALK, ANT-WOMAN! YOU’RE SO MUCH SHORTER THAN ME, I SOMETIMES HAVE TO WATCH **MY** STEP TO MAKE SURE I DIDN’T SQUISH YOU UNDERFOOT, YOU MICROSCOPIC DUST SPECK!_ ”

The explosive force of the words had rent the air and had gone just as suddenly as they came. In the ensuring silence, no one spoke. Edward panted, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Bish stared wide-eyed at him, a bubbling hot rage building up in her own chest. In her book, it was all right to poke fun and tease others, so long as they didn’t give much of a damn about it and got along just fine with the humour. Hell, she poked fun at her own height and Lupin’s quite often enough. Short people unite was the slogan in her mind. But then there were the lines that weren’t meant to be crossed.

Edward had just crossed that line.

And it wasn’t even really about height, either.

She wanted to move, to yell, to do something, but her body was so tense and rigid, she was almost afraid she would snap something if she tried.

Bish almost breathed a collective sigh of relief and swallowed down a gasp of surprise when Lupin bulldogged her way forward and for a split second, she thought the other woman was going to deck him in the face. Frankly, she thought he deserved it—but Lupin just shoved him out of the way with all the force she could muster. It must have surprised Edward too, because he was thrown off-kilter and stumbled backwards against the stove monstrosity. He caught himself just in time, steadying as he watched the other woman clomp off. Alphonse was the smarter one this round and moved out of the way just in time. All three of them watched the lean little woman stalk out of sight and head for the stairwell that led up to the main deck above in a stunned silence.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“How can you lose someone on a goddamned ship?”

A thought crossed her mind and her heart skipped at it. No. No, Lupin was crazy in her own little ways, the only way a nineteen-year-old could be without being diagnosed with something and needing medication to balance things out. She wouldn’t dive overboard out of spite or rage. No, she’d find some place to hole herself up in and not come out until she either cooled down, or someone dragged her out kicking and screaming and sparked up her anger all over again.

 _But where would she go? She came this way, she’s got to be_ somewhere _.  
_

Her eyes raked over the deck, scanning the obvious open spaces and deduced that no, her friend wasn’t out in the open. That much she could check off the list. Her gaze settled over the captain’s quarters, and for another heart-racing moment, she thought Lupin had sought refuge in there, with Jack.

Then the idea seemed silly when she spotted the captain at the helm, alone except for Mister Gibbs hovering by his side, consulting with Jack. They were too engrossed with their conversation, they didn’t seem to notice the rest of the world around them all that much.

“Hey! Ortiz!”

Bish whirled at her name. Sometimes she was called by her chosen moniker. Rarely was she ever addressed by her legal name. The only one who actually did was Mister Gibbs. And then there were those who addressed her by her last name. Marty was one of those few. The bald dwarf stalked over, his brow wrinkled into a glower as he stopped before her.

“Tell your friend the next time she wants to take someone’s shift in the crow’s nest, make sure she does it before shift change, not during!”

He stalked away with a string of grumbled curses under his breath.

“Wait—which one is she in, there’s like, three of them!”

“Take your pick and guess!” The dwarf snarled over his shoulder as he headed toward the stairwell that led below decks. Alphonse juked to the side as he came up the stairs, just as Marty began descending them. He trotted over to Bish’s side. Edward trailed behind, his shoulders set and his eyes ducked.

“Did you find her?”

“She’s in one of the crow’s nests up there. I can’t remember which one you guys use.”

“Usually the one up above the mainsail. I’ll go up there.”

“But I think I should go. I mean, she’s my friend.”

“Do you really want to climb all the way up there?” He pressed with a faint smile. It was by no means condescending, but more encouraging for her to weigh her choices. Bish glanced up at the Jacob’s ladder and how they angled upwards parallel to the sails and the masts. She took note of two of the men that were aloft, and even working on the first array of masts closest to the deck, they were up pretty high. She shook her head at last.

“…on second thought, maybe I shouldn’t. I love her and all—but I’d rather not risk losing my glasses or falling. I’m not really made for climbing.”

_I have enough callouses and blisters on my hands, thank you, and I don’t need to add to the collection._

“Alphonse, wait. Maybe…maybe I should go.” Edward piped up. Bish rounded on him with a glower, snappish words on the tip of her tongue.

“You’re the reason she’s up there in the first place and I think I can safely say that you’re the last person she wants to see right now!”

“Easy,” Alphonse intervened softly. Bish huffed, but grudgingly held back the rest of her scathing remarks. She didn’t even give a damn if they were attracting a fair amount of attention at this point. She just wanted to make sure her friend really wasn’t going to end up blowing off the platform high above them.

“Brother, I don’t think that’s a good idea at the moment.”

Edward chose to weigh his words with care this time.

“Are you seriously taking her side?”

“I’m not taking her side, per say, but I’m also not taking yours, either. Just…find Tearlach and see if he can’t cover for tonight’s meal. I have a feeling she might not come down in time to finish prepping it.”

The elder Elric looked ready to argue, but he stopped himself short at the steady gaze his brother pinned him with. It didn’t help Bish was glowering at him like he kicked her kittens, either. He finally decided on the easier course of action and turned away without another word, presumably and hopefully to find Tearlach. Alphonse turned back to the Guatemalan woman and gave her another reassuring smile.

“I’ll be back soon. Just hang tight.”

“Not like I can do much else. Or go anywhere else, for that matter,” she sighed. She watched the young man cross the deck, swing himself up onto the gunwale and up the Jacob’s ladder with practiced ease. He moved quickly, hands scrabbling up over one another as he grabbed rung after rung of taut rope, climbing further up toward the crow’s nest above the mainsail.

Then he was up there, carefully tiptoeing like a tightrope walker across the beam, using the rigging as handholds. Bish lost sight of him when the faded black sails billowed above. She trotted lightly to the other side, realizing she was on the receiving end of the wind pulling taut on the sheets. When she was on the other side, where she had a clearer line of sight of the beam, Alphonse had disappeared. Hopefully onto the crow’s nest platform and hadn’t fallen overboard.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Go away.”

“Is that really how you treat someone trying to help you? I’m hurt.”

“I said go away. I really don’t want to deal with anyone right now.”

“Clearly. But I really don’t think you kicking people out of their assigned places of duty is going to do you any favours right now.”

“Are you deaf or something? I said go away!”

Alphonse sighed, leaning on the rigging he was holding onto. The wind was tugging forcefully at the sheets and lines, and especially more so up higher aloft. Lupin didn’t seem to care two wits, however. She was curled up and sheltered from most of the wind with the mast at her backside. Her hair whipped about, as tamed as it could get while pulled up and tied back. She was trying her damnedest to not look at Alphonse and kept her fierce gaze focused on the horizon. The sun was dipping in the sky but it was still bearing down all its heat upon them and would continue to do so for the next several hours.

He carefully folded himself into a seated position beside her, taking as much shelter as he could from the wind. Lupin’s face was scrunched into an irritated scowl, but she was adamant on saying nothing. Maybe she thought if she ignored him, he’d go away.

Stubborn. So _stubborn_. It was like a carbon copy situation when dealing with his brother. At least she didn’t have metal limbs to flail about during rage fits, though. And Edward was getting better at reining them in nowadays. That didn’t mean he was completely void of them, either.

Alphonse squinted as the wind gave a particularly long and powerful gust past them, blowing his hair into his eyes. It was beginning to get long, he noted. He’d have to look into getting it trimmed.

“Did Ed send you?”

And there it was.

That hadn’t taken long. It was a trait he’d picked up on almost right away. Lupin was about as stubborn and as impatient as his brother could be. And while they had those similarities, they were often enough polar opposites of one another, and opposites either attracted one another or they hated each other’s guts. He was hoping he could at least nip that possibility in the bud. The last thing he needed was his brother at someone’s throat at all times. Especially when that someone was quite possibly the few allies they had that they could trust.

“No. I came up here of my own free will, no arm twisting or sly tricks. Just me, myself, and I.”

Lupin glanced at him from the corner of her eye, narrowed and suspicious, her lips pursed into a thin, angry line. She looked away, back toward the horizon where the sun had made a golden coin on the water’s surface with its light.

“Your brother’s an asshole.”

“He can be,” Alphonse started off carefully with a small nod. “But he also doesn’t mean half of what he says most of the time. Sometimes, he…he says the things he does to protect people, and other times…he just doesn’t realize the impact his words will have on others until they’re said. I don’t think he meant to imply you couldn’t do the job, but—”

“I didn’t get mad because of that, not really. I’m made because he didn’t even give it thought, and automatically disqualified me in his books from anything that requires hard work.” She scowled, swallowing thickly. “I’m mad because he didn’t even give a second thought about having some belief in me, to see if I could even handle a job before saying, ‘you can’t do it’ based on my level of skill or even lack thereof. He assumed I couldn’t do it and wrote me off. _That_ is why I’m mad.”

For almost a minute, he was stunned and it took him some time to regather his orientation on the situation. It was all the time he needed as he mulled on her statement.

“I said it a moment ago. Ed, he’s…he can be abrasive sometimes. He means well, though. He probably wasn’t considering your ability to conduct a job up on the masts and with dealing with the sails, true—but he only said what he did because…well, he has a strange way of showing he cares for people. He doesn’t want to see you getting hurt. He’s already had a few close calls himself.” He smiled disarmingly at her when she gave another suspicious glare sent his way and Alphonse shrugged. “He’s my brother. I know him better than you. He did mean well. He gets tunnel vision when it comes to others and admittedly, his people skills are…rusty.”

“Even when he’s constantly surrounded by them?” She snorted back in a sarcastic mutter.

“Especially when he’s around other people constantly,” Alphonse agreed with a faint laugh. A moment of silence passed between them again, but this wasn’t as tense as the last had been. He could feel a difference already.

“I know he can be a bit of an ass, but he really did mean well, even if he seemingly dismissed you. I don’t believe that was his intention. He just didn’t want to see you get hurt, especially when we don’t have an actual doctor who can help us if that does happen.” He offered her another smile. “Besides, I’m sure you’d be fine up here. You’re small, but you obviously don’t suffer from any fear of heights.”

She didn’t say anything at first, and he could practically see the gears churning slowly in her head. She had an eerily similar look of concentration on her face as his brother got at times, when he was pondering over some new piece of information and needed to be thorough about it.

“I think…I need the night to cool off. Before I talk to him again. Think you can pass the message to him to leave me be until then? Otherwise, I won’t be held responsible for any words or actions I may or may not conduct if he tries anything any sooner.”

“Time to cool off is good enough to pass along,” he agreed. She looked to him and met his gaze squarely without a hint of hesitation.

“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I agreed to take the rest of Marty’s shift, which is about an hour’s time left. And I have an undead cursed monkey in my lap that I’d really like to not disturb.”

Alphonse startled, glancing to her lap and was surprised to see, why yes, she did have a monkey in her lap. The little capuchin was curled into a ball, slumbering away. He stared, agape and impressed.

“How did you get that thing to not bite you? Everyone else, he scratches up and screams at.”

Lupin shrugged. “Patience. And a lot of peanuts,” she said before adding, “I grew up with a rather…eclectic collection of pets. I shit you not, sharks and eels are on that list, along with several kinds of lizards and snakes, parrots, dogs, cats, ferrets and hamsters.”

She shrugged again at the slow smile creeping up on Alphonse’s face. “That is rather impressive.”

“I grew up with the ideology of ‘Everything with a mouth can bite’. But, I also learned that patience is a virtue and that you can reap the rewards when it comes to animals.” She grew sheepish after saying this and averted her gaze. “I find animals to be better company than people sometimes. I’d rather hang out with a snake most of the time, but I’d miss a few certain people more often than naught if I did so…I compromise. Sometimes.”

“Do you think you could compromise with my brother, for the time being?”

She looked back at him, brows drawing up tight in a confused wrinkle. “Try to use that patience to be understanding with him. He’s not the best at expressing things, not all the time. Yes, he make an ass out of himself by blurting out the first thing that comes to mind and be rather snappish about it—but there are times he does it out of concern for others. Even if he comes off as a jerk.”

She studied him with more scrutiny than before. For a while, she said nothing, did nothing, and seemed content to stay that way. She finally turned away, back to staring at the horizon. “I’ll think about it.”

“For now, I suppose that’ll do. Please be careful when you come down. Don’t want to prove my brother right, do you?”

She didn’t turn to look at him as he carefully picked himself up to take his leave—although he did catch a glimpse of a smile on her face while she petted the snoozing monkey in her lap.

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Credit to the lyrics come from the shanty, Bully in the Alley. Don’t worry; something slightly more modern will show up later on in the chapters.**


	9. It Takes Two to Tangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Note: [22 April 2016] I am of the school of thought that while Jack is a rather lax leader, he would not stand for outright insubordination from those who have signed onto his ship. Will and Elizabeth are exceptions, of course, because they haven’t signed on to sail with him on official record. They’re not his crew by contract. While he has the power to abandon, strand, or otherwise refuse passage to them, he was never truly their captain in the way that they signed on in agreement to sail under him. And I also cannot imagine that he wouldn’t be fooled a second time with the possibility of a mutiny brewing right up from underneath him. He’d play the fool, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be fooled again. Not after Barbossa’s betrayal.**
> 
> **Reality ensues with our four wayward individuals because they officially signed on to sail under him. He’ll be lax to a point, but once that hint of absolute disrespect or utter disobedience starts creeping in, he’ll lash out accordingly to nip it in the bud.**
> 
> **Food for thought.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_“So, what’s your excuse?”_  
_“For?”_  
_“Acting the way you do.”_  
_“I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?” **  
**_**-Patrick and Katrina,** _ **“10 Things I Hate About You”**_

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“And you’re positive you’ve identified this ship with black sails, a hull that appears scorched to the point of blackening, and that its course was due east?”

“That’s what I said, innit? Look, I already gave me statement, mind tellin’ me what this is all about?”

“That ship that you and your crew spotted a few days prior belonged to none other than to one Jack Sparrow.”

“Ye mean _the_ Captain Jack Sparrow? Th’ one who stole the _Black Pearl_ from the man who was so evil that hell itself spat ‘im back out again soon’s it swallowed ‘im?”

Commodore Norrington felt the tendons in his neck grow taut and strained at the corrected title of the aforementioned pirate. Whilst his quartermaster continued the interrogation, he listened in on the entirety of the whole ordeal. Understandably, the captain of the _Grey Dove_ was nervous, as was the rest of the crew. They all looked tired and in need of a good, long shore leave and this unfortunate meeting was keeping them from their schedule. He was only half-surprised Sparrow hadn’t attacked this little sloop; it wasn’t riding too high, but neither was it too low, as it was still burdened with some tradeable goods in the hull. It was mostly cargo from Europe that was to be traded for coin and spices and sugar cane, according to the captain.

No matter. Norrington had a job to conduct and that was of disposing of a pirate and the threat he posed to the good, honest peoples that sailed these waters.

“I think that’s all that I have for you, Mister Johnston. Commodore Norrington, is there anything else that you can think of that you’d like to add?”

Norrington turned at the sound of his name, an answer already lined up on his lips when he took pause. Sparrow didn’t attack this ship, yet it was still likely he saw this sloop, just as her crew had seen the _Pearl_. That oddity finally struck him full force.

“You passed the _Black Pearl_ and yet she gave you no chase?”

“Sir?”

There was a long silence that stretched on between them. He turned on his heel toward Mister Johnston, eyes narrowed as he took in the sloop’s captain in more fully. While his appearance was haggard from months at sea, there was no sign of him or his crew being harried by pirates. Nor was there damage to his ship that suggested any signs of battle, boarding, or even thievery beyond time ravaging away at everything.

“That is to say…no sir. Nothing o’ the sort. The ship just…she just sailed on. Didn’t even fly no colours to suggest what nation she hailed from or her intentions. There for a moment, gone the next, off towards the east. Might be ‘e’s heading toward England, but there’s lots of land over yonder. Maybe it’s the Mediterranean or Africa. Could be ‘e’s heading toward India, fer all I know.”

“Not even Sparrow is that mad to sail the _Pearl_ toward England. They’d hang him over the Thames and sink his ship as soon as they looked at him,” his quartermaster murmured softly to him. Norrington nodded quietly in agreement. No, Sparrow wouldn’t risk sailing his pride and glory into enemy waters so blatantly, not with the might of the King’s Navy docked at home. Too much of a coward.

And too smart.

There was some kind of mission the man was on. A treasure trove he hid years ago? No, that was ridiculous. Why not go back to Isla Muerta, if that were the case, then. Recruitment? Well, then Tortuga must be in short supply of mad men wanting to sail under the banner of the skull and crossbones if Sparrow was sailing across the globe for more men, if that were truly the case.

There was something there, he was sure of it. What little information he could glean about the man from the pirates he has captured over the last several months was not much. He was a hard man to figure, and played things too close to the vest. What Sparrow’s intentions were, however…

Well, they were irrelevant. In the end, Norrington would catch him and his nefarious crew, put the _Pearl_ to her watery grave where she belonged, and hang the man. This was a merry chase, and perhaps he had been foolish for allowing the man a day’s head start, but the game was over now.

“I thank you, Mister Johnston, for your cooperation and your information. My apologies for delaying whatever schedule you may have had.” Norrington glanced up into the sails, taking note of the East India Trading Company flag the _Grey Dove_ was flying up above. “Please, be sure to stay safe and may your sails catch all the winds you need to make up for lost time. Quartermaster, with me.”

Tucking his hands at the small of his back, Norrington pivoted sharply and led the way off the _Grey Dove_ and back onto _H.M.S. Dauntless_. His men filed after him and he could practically hear the sighs of relief release themselves from the crew of the _Grey Dove_. The captain was already shouting orders at his men to hop to it and get ready to set sail once again. Norrington did much the same, delegating authority where he needed and overseeing others that he had to. Soon enough, they pulled away the gangplank, weighed anchor, and were parting ways with the _Grey Dove_. The little sloop disappeared over the horizon as the _H.M.S. Dauntless_ made her way forward, slicing through the cool Atlantic waters without concern.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“We’re still a few weeks away from Spain. I’ve inventoried everything we have—fresh or not—to see what we’ll need to restock in, what we can hold out with in the meantime, and what’s got to go or we’ll have some sick-ass pirates on our hands.”

Lupin scribbled away on her parchment, the feather quill she was using bobbing along the page. She was perched on a barrel, using her knee as a makeshift clipboard. Mister Gibbs stood on one side and Tearlach on the other.

“Are you sure that this stock of the food is that bad?”

“Pretty much every one of the fruits either mushy or moldy. You want to keep eating them, be my guest, but you’ll be tossing them back up within the hour and feeling like shit for the rest of the day, if not for several days. I wouldn’t risk it with the veggies either.”

“It’s not a big loss. It’s the damned rats that got into the cured meats and riddled them with their filth. We’re down by at least a week’s worth of food and if we’re out here longer than planned, we’ll be out of luck.”

“What about fishing? Do any of those old harpoons work?”

Mister Gibbs took pause, exchanged a look with Tearlach, stroking his beard for a moment.

“It’s not a bad idea. There’s plenty of good fishing still. If we can get eyes on some of the bigger fish, we might be able to make due.”

“What about one of the sheep or pigs? We can slice them up, make a decent meal for the men,” Tearlach pressed.

Mister Gibbs shook his head. “No, that won’t do. We’d have to half-ration the men and cure the rest after a meal and it would only prolong for a day or two, at the most. If we’re not in Spain after our projected time line, we’ll consider it. I’d rather risk a few hours fishing than waste one of our animals. Boiled eggs go a long way if you’re careful not to let them go bad. And if the rats don’t get to ‘em, either.”

The shorter man scowled, his brow furrowing. Lupin thought for a moment.

“Why not get cats when we dock and get supplies? They could hunt the rats down.” _They could also keep us from getting sick, since rats are disease carriers via fleas and ticks…_

“I’d rather not trade one nuisance for another. An’ that’s something ye’d have t’ take up with the captain. I don’t think he’d be fond of the idea, either.” Mister Gibbs said dismissively as he shook his head. He turned back to Tearlach. “The captain wants us to be on low-profile, as it were. We have just a few goods that we can trade.”

“We’ll sell some of the wool we’ve stocked up on, gather up some eggs, maybe sell out some goat milk to boot and get back what we lost,” Tearlach nodded in agreement, poking at Lupin’s list. He squinted, his lips pulling into a hard frown. “Double-check on these items, girl. See if they’re as bad as ye think, an’ if they’re not, keep ‘em.”

She resisted the urge to sigh loudly and at length. _I’ve already checked, three times over, and they’re bad. Like, “eat this and you’ll be puking up for a week straight” bad._

“All right, I’ll go do that now,” she said instead, hopping off the barrel and heading back toward the galley. Tearlach followed after Mister Gibbs back topside. Lupin found Edward leaning against the monstrous stove contraption she’s come to know rather well by now. Lupin bestowed it with the endearing nickname of ‘Bubba’. It’s earned her more than a few stares, frankly.

Not that she cared. Nor did she care all that much that Edward was in her working space, again. She was still a little miffed with him, although at the moment, had come to an agreement with Alphonse not to start anything more. Restarting unnecessary drama on this ship wasn’t going to help matters. It wasn’t like she could go anywhere else, anyway.

_I don’t remember Ed being this much of a dick. Oh, wait, he always was one, his asshole-y attitude just wasn’t directed at me. Take a lesson from the Doctor: never meet your heroes; they’re bound to disappoint you._

“Things all right?”

“Peachy,” she replied with a growl, tossing her parchment on top of Bubba’s cold stove surface. The quill and the little jar of ink she had capped on her way over. She stored that in a little basket she started keeping personal non-food items. Edward hesitated, keeping his distance at first. Things with him were just as strained. Lupin wasn’t sure if he wanted to apologize or pick back up where they had left off a few days ago. For now, she was glad he hadn’t brought it up, even in apology. She wasn’t sure how she’d respond just yet.

“What’s wrong,” he finally got out, and he genuinely sounded concerned. Lupin picked out from her back pocket the iron-wrought key that Tearlach had given her. There were only two copies of it, and Jack had the other one. It was used to access to the food storage. She stopped, processing his words and his tone more thoroughly before turning to look at him.

“It’s…” she hesitated for only a moment. “Some of the food got wrecked by rats, mostly the cured meat. Pretty much all the fruits and veggies are rotten and I wouldn’t suggest eating any of it because that would be pretty bad. Like, ‘don’t eat it unless you feel like evacuating your body of all fluids and possibly dying from food poisoning’ bad.”

She scowled, rubbing her thumb along the length of the key, feeling the small bumps and imperfections on the surface.

“I made the suggestion to get some cats, so they could hunt down the rats, perhaps mitigate things with them. I got shot down and talked over, predictably.” She shrugged and turned, making her way through the deck to get to the food storage locker. She could hear Edward falling into step behind her. “They said talk to Jack, but he might not go for it.”

“Sailors always had to deal with rats these days, didn’t they? I don’t think having cats would do much.”

“Did you hear the part where they’d hunt the rats?”

She caught a glimpse of his face when she stopped to unlock the food storage locker and saw he was pulling a sour look. She gave him a narrow-eyed, tight-lipped one in return. She unlocked the storage and swung the door open. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she hissed low under her breath and cursed at length, flinging herself forward with a bellow.

“You fucking little cocksuckers— _GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!_ ”

A series of squeals and squeaks of terror followed in her wake. Furry little torpedoes scurried past Edward’s feet, screeching as they went. Edward leapt out of the way in surprise, realizing that about a dozen and a half rats were fleeing to safety. When the last rodent had ran away, he peeked around the door to find Lupin standing in the small room, shoulders hiked up and back tense. Her fists were balled up at her sides, shaking while she fumed in silence.

Edward cast a backward glance to where the rats had fled, although where they were now, he hadn’t a clue. He just hoped he wouldn’t find one in his cot when he went to bed later that night.

Turning back, he gave an almost polite clearing of the throat. Lupin didn’t turn, but he saw her flinch ever so slightly. She was listening.

“I think you might be right,” he started carefully. “We might need a cat or two to keep the rat population under control.”

_Or some kind of rat trap to cut down on their numbers._

“Ya _think_?” Lupin growled back. She pointed forcefully to a burlap sack of something in the food storage. “Pick that up and haul it back to the galley. I’ll check the inventory, _again_ , before I go to Gibbs. And then after that, I’m going to talk to Jack about this. This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t feel like contracting the bubonic plague or smallpox or the fucking Black Death because of those things. I didn’t exactly get a vaccine for those diseases back when I was a kid.”

Still grumbling to herself as he stepped into the storage room with her, she was yanking forcefully at things, converting her anger into her actions. He narrowly missed having a rotten apple nearly hit his head. He quickly dropped the sack he just picked up and crossed the small space toward Lupin, putting a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, surprised, jerking herself to a stop mid-whirl.

“Easy, easy. Why don’t I help you with this so it gets done faster?”

He took a look around and in the lighting, he could see just about everything that wasn’t preserved consumables were rotting. Even the air had that faint stench lingering about. Lupin watched him with narrowed eyes for almost ten seconds, but it felt much longer to him. Finally he felt the tension in her shoulders drop. She nodded.

“Fine. Go take this over by Bubba, grab my list, and come back.”

He threw the sack back over a shoulder again with a nod and hurried back once he dropped it off. She was already sorting through a woven basket when he returned, her nose crinkled in disgust as she delicately poked at a lump of something in the basket. “Ugh. No. No, no, no, no. I refuse to feed this to the men. Christ, we’re lucky this all survived for so long. Grab me a lantern? It’s just outside the door.”

Edward ducked out, snatched the unlit lantern and handed it to Lupin. He had to hand it to her; she was quick with her hands when it came to lighting the thing. Soon enough, there was a warm orange glow in the room and he could see much better now. Lupin was picking her way past the food storage, carefully picking her way past a coil of rope that was slumped on the deck. Edward shuffled closer to a shelving unit, looking into the various buckets, baskets, and barrels that housed their food. Some of the burlap sacks, he noted, looked like they had been ravaged by the rodent pests, if the split thread and spilling contents were evidence enough.

The lantern creaked as she swung it up and down, quickly scanning everything as she went. Edward caught glimpses of things further back into the storage: more lines, spare canvas sheets, and other repair kits for the ship. Edward craned to peer over Lupin as she kept moving back and forth, but finally gave up trying to see it all.

“All bad. Those rats might be able to stomach this stuff, but we sure as hell can’t. The human body is both an amazing and stupid design; for all the punishment we can take, there’s a lot more even we can’t recover from.”

He laughed softly at her rather poignantly delivered remark. She glanced at him, a wry smile pulling at the corner of her lips. She turned away and motioned for him to back up out of the room, with her following. She locked up, tucking her paperwork in hand and replaced the lantern on its hook after blowing it out.

“I’m talking with Jack about this. We can’t waste time trying to catch the rats ourselves and even if we laid out traps or snares, it’s not a guarantee to always work.” She sighed, stopping full motion to put her hands on her hips, chewing her lip. She looked over at him. “Thanks. For the help, I mean.”

“I didn’t have much else to do.” His eyes flicked over to Bubba for a moment, then back to her. “Anything else you need help with?”

She stared a moment longer at his offer, and the surprise colouring her face was genuine. It was a stark relief compared to the sour, deadpan glares she had been shooting him lately.

“No,” she said at last, her tone carefully guarded. “But…thanks. For offering. And for helping, again.”

She faltered, as though she had more to offer but decided to clam up at the last second instead. There was an awkward, sustained pause that grew before she turned to him more fully. “I’m sorry for being such an ass the other day. I just wanted to get that out there before I lost my nerve and didn’t say anything at all. Ever.”

The last was said all so quickly, it took him a minute to process her words completely. She was tense again, her back rigid and straight as she watched him expectantly. There was even a hint of apprehension in her posture, in her very words. Like she was ready to bolt, ready to flee again, but this time without the huff in her voice or a clomp in her booted step. Edward scratched the back of his head, glancing away.

“Yeah, I…Alphonse talked to me after he went up there to talk you down…” he stopped short, working on his next words. “You proved me wrong. I thought you’d be blown over and hurt or get knocked overboard, but…I was wrong. You did fine, even if it was just for a short time.”

She watched him carefully, as though trying to wait him out. For what, he didn’t know. Maybe she was almost expecting him to go “just kidding” and run off. She nodded after a few extra seconds of waiting.

“Thanks. I, um…it was pretty cool up there, actually. I’d like to go back up again,” she said and offered a small smile, her tone cautiously optimistic. She cleared her throat. “I’d better get my repeated results to Gibbs and then go kick Jack’s door in about this.”

With that all said, she folded her parchment and walked briskly off. Edward noted with a hint of relief that she wasn’t as tense or guarded when she had said all this to him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The lean little woman, who had come bearing the moniker of Lupin, followed in Gibbs’ wake with the final report he had assigned earlier. Gibbs spoke first, detailing the losses and current standing of their sustenance stocks. The little woman, he noted with mild amusement and annoyance, had her eyes roving over everything in his cabin. From the maps and charts on his desk, the varying levels of emptiness or fullness of bottles of various drinks—most of them rum—to the oddities and trinkets that littered his cabin. She stared at it all with a hungry gleam in her eyes, and he recognized that twitchy urge that yearned to fiddle and pick up and move about freely to examine in her body language. Even if she had been garbed in a proper bodice and skirts that would have all but hid her entire being, Jack would have sense it all the same.

Regardless, when Gibbs stopped talking and lapsed into a painfully earnest and expectant silence, Jack stirred and turned his attention back to the elder man. Gibbs motioned for the parchment Lupin had and he stepped forward, offering it to Jack. He took it with little flourish, eyes sweeping over the tallies and counts, skimming through it all in a matter of moments.

“Miss Lupin,” he barked without taking his eyes off the parchment. She flinched, but stepped forward. “Tell me, as you work in that particular department upon my merry vessel. What say you to this all, eh?”

“The rats are fucking everything up. I say we get cats.”

Well, that was certainly a succinct way to put it in. Simple, sweet, and to the point.

“Out of the question,” he responded back without skipping a beat.

“But—”

“No. My answer is final.”

It was almost funny the way her lips puckered into a thin, hard line and the sharpened glint her stormy blue-grey eyes took. If only it hey weren’t directed toward him. He could practically see the tempest building up in her. There was a maelstrom of arguments already on the brink of exploding out of her, if the way her cheeks reddened and her frame tensed was anything to go by. He shifted his gaze, almost lazily even, toward Gibbs, who rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder and he noticed the poorly concealed flinch she made at contact.

“Mister Gibbs,” he said, bringing the man’s attention back to him. “I’ll have a word in private with her, if you please.”

There was only a moment’s hesitation before Gibbs nodded. “Aye, cap’n.”

Gibbs cast one last sidelong glance at the small woman before he hustled out of there quicker than the shake of a lamb’s tail. When the doors came to a close, a final thud of wood connecting with wood, Jack stood slowly, circling the heavy wooden table he had moments before being interrupted been working on the charts. He let his fingers trace along the parchment, feeling their aged creases and cracks, before lifting his fingers to rub them together at his side. Her eyes didn’t leave him, solely focused on his every move, as opposed to her earlier open-faced curiosity.

“You remind me of a person I met not too long ago,” he started off amiably enough. “Two people actually, in fact. They both had that same vitriolic stare you’re giving me now. That sour look of discontent at an answer that they didn’t like and wanted something better to come out me mouth, but I stand by my decision.”

“So you’re saying you don’t understand the benefits of hav—”

“Luv, I’ve been at sea for more years than you have been on this earth and trust me when I say, I know the benefits of a lot of things that you couldn’t possibly even _dream_ of.”

Chagrined, but not swayed, she still glowered like a petulant child. She really did remind him of Will and Elizabeth, wrapped into one neat little miniature package. Will’s tempered brashness and Elizabeth’s stubbornness. How _lovely_.

Turning sharply on his heel, he swayed when the _Pearl_ did, leaning in towards the eventual tipping back as he scooped up a bottle sitting on his table.

“I already have an undead monkey gallivanting all across my sails and lines, making a fuss wherever it goes and with whoever crosses its path. But you,” he turned to face her, gathering himself back into his decorative chair and pausing long enough to swallow back a mouthful of rum. “But you, I’ve noticed, happen to have some sort of…relationship with the bloody thing.”

He sneered with slight disdain at the mention of the monkey, the last remnant of Barbossa’s metaphorical ghost lingering about to haunt his ship. The damned thing had either been trained to hate him or knew on some metaphysical level just how much his master hated him and thus, hated him in turn as well.

For the first time, she looked away, and perhaps a mite embarrassed and proud. Lupin shrugged her slim shoulders in a listless manner. “I’ve…had a lot of experience with animals growing up. An undead monkey tops my list of ‘weird animals I’ve taken care of’ though.”

“I’m sure it does,” he replied blandly as he took another swig, then as an afterthought, held the bottle out to her. She stared at it in a particularly boggled manner, flicking her gaze to his face more than once in uncertainty. “C’mon, luv. S’not going to kill you.”

She stayed rooted to where she stood, although she was leaning forward, like she very so much would have liked to come forward. He dropped his offered arm and replaced the bottle back onto the table when she ultimately chose not to move. Jack scooped up the list and reexamined it. “Suit yourself. Now, other than this cat business, I see that our stock isn’t doing so well. Rats in the food, that’s not good.”

“Hence my cat suggestion,” she muttered back bitterly, making a point to look away when he glanced at her.

“—and rot. Also not good. Makes the men sick, unable to work, unable to do much of anything other than spew their bodily contents more often than usual. We have another few weeks to go before we make port. So, perhaps we can stop to do a little fishing. Good meat to be had in these waters. Fish of all sorts. How’s our water situation?”

“Um…pretty good. Enough to last us until we manage to, ya know…make port.”

“And the rum?”

She cleared her throat. “I don’t have access to that area. Only you do.”

The rum had been painstakingly locked up separately from the rest of the supplies and only access when he allowed it or had Gibbs authorize it. Drinking was fine and dandy, he supported it just fine. But during certain periods of time on his ship, he wouldn’t tolerate a drunken crew who couldn’t operate the _Pearl_ , especially in dire times of need.

“So I do,” he conceded with a tip of his head. “I’ll have Mister Gibbs take stock later, then.”

She nodded in return, although there was still a lingering sourness in her eyes, in her very frame. He gave her the slightest flutter of his fingers, a cue of dismissal.

“You’d best start cooking, girl. Evening will be upon us soon enough an’ there is a ship full of mouths to feed, includin’ mine.”

She didn’t move at first, but when she finally pivoted with all the defeated sluggishness she could muster, he called to her one last time and she stopped mid-step, glancing back.

“An’ one more thing; I would rather you deliver me meals to me from here on in. Savvy?”

“…yes, cap’n.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Notes: For those not in the know or completely missed it the first few times (like me for a long time), “long pork” was a kind of slang term for “human flesh”. So, in the second film, when the term was used by a shrimper who spoke of trading his spices for “long pork” with the Pelegostos, he was trading for “delicious [human flesh]”. He was essentially making himself and anyone he served or traded it to, second-hand cannibals. The more you know!**


	10. Spanish Ladies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Note: [18 Jan 2017] I chose “Spanish Ladies” as performed by Sarah Blasko, and it was a song based on the point of view of the sailors from the Royal British Navy. This version was played in AMC’s Turn: Washington’s Spies. It’s a very pretty piece; highly recommended!**
> 
> **Also, as I’ve felt the need to say in my other stories…fuck 2016. It was a shitty year for a lot of people. It was a shitty year for the world as a whole. For any of you who have had a bad year…I’m sorry with the way things have been going and they don’t seem to be improving much. What we can do, however, is keep hope alive. It’s what Carrie Fisher would want, and so many others that we’ve lost would rally behind her to concur. Let’s give ‘em hell to honour them.**
> 
> **Don’t let the Screaming Orange Cheeto and people like him get you down. Fight back.**

 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies_  
Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain  
     For we have received orders  
     To sail to old England,  
We hope in a short time to see you again  
  
We'll rant and we'll roar, like true British sailors,  
We'll rant and we'll roar on all the salt seas  
     Until we strike soundings  
     In the Channel of old England,  
From Ushant to Scilly, 'tis thirty-five leagues  
**-“ _Spanish Ladies_ ” by Sarah Blasko**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The coastline of Spain came as suddenly as the grey dawn. The fog rolled in nearly as soon as the sun was up, obscuring the sight of land within the hour of it being glimpsed. But it raised the crew’s fervor in making berth as soon as possible. Jack took on the task of docking the _Pearl_ , standing tall and proudly at the helm. The closer they got, the more clogged the waters surrounding port became. Most of the ships they spotted were fishing vessels, with hardened, scraggy men pulling at nets over the sides of their ships. Some were merchant trading vessels, their hulls bursting with tradable goods. There were quite a number of those lurking about.

So far, no Spanish navy vessels were lurking about, or so Gibbs claimed.

A flag of Spain had been raised several nights prior, to distill any suspicion regarding the _Black Pearl_ ’s appearance as she edged closer to Spain. Its bright crimson and gold colours flapped noisily in the wind above them all.

The energy bubbled and rose as the docks came into plain view at last and finding one open proved fruitful. It was long before the anchors were dropped, the lines cast out to anchor themselves to the docks, and the gangplank was thrown down. Jack’s orders were clearly barked form the quarterdeck.

Work first, and then play later.

Unload any tradable goods, tally up the last of the lists that required items to purchase, and assess what was feasibly able to be purchased. Mister Gibbs divided up the groups of those who would be venturing out into the street and dockside stalls, along with those that would visit the right merchants for miscellaneous materials and supplies further in town.

Tearlach was paired with Lupin, predictably enough, along with Marty, Bish, Alphonse and Edward. The other groups were quickly formed and split off to complete their tasks in town. They said quick goodbyes before diving into the dockside merchant stalls, passing by the owners as they were hawking their freshly caught fish, clams, oysters, crabs, and more. Tearlach led the way into the city proper, past the market on the docks.

Cádiz was a booming port city immersed with a rich history, Tearlach stated as they weaved through the crowds and navigated the streets.

“Although,” he scratched at his neck with a yawn, “I don’t know it all. I do know that the Spaniards aren’t too welcoming of the English in this town all that much yet, so try not to talk too much, girl, if you can help it.”

“Yeah, Loopy doesn’t speak Spanish,” Bish snickered. Lupin sighed.

“Sorry I’m not amazingly bilingual like you. I bow to you and your double-language coolness.”

“You’d better.” Bish reached over and lightly pinched Lupin’s side. The brunette yelped and reached out to smack at her friend, but Bish merely juked away just out of reach and snickered teasingly back.

“Now, now, children, try not to make a scene, we’re in public,” Edward chided lightly.

“Lock it up, all of you!” Marty snapped. Edward glowered half-heartedly at the shorter man, but kept quiet alongside the others.

The rest of the morning and most of the afternoon was spent at stalls and a few merchant stores in the town proper, haggling over supplies, materials, raw goods. They passed by several of many towers in the merchants’ market, churches and monuments within the small square area they visited, but it was enough to garner stares.

“Wow.”

“I know, right?”

“I think we’re kind of lucky being here.”

“Lucky to see this when it was still in relatively good condition, not so much that we’re stuck here, right?”

“All of the above. I kind of wish I had a camera right now.”

“Right?”

“Geez, you two. Can you stop gawking like that? You’re getting stared at for staring at everything else.”

“Dude, how can you _not_ enjoy all of this? Seriously.” Bish pinned Edward with a mild glare, although her heart wasn’t really in it at the moment. She wasn’t angry, not really. Annoyed, perhaps. But it passed just as quickly as it manifested. Nope. He couldn’t keep her down. Not today! Spain, after all, has always been on her bucket list of places to visit. She only wished she could explore at her leisure, instead of being dragged around on a shopping trip she wasn’t enjoying.

“It’s just a town with a lot of churches. And lots of Spanish. Half of it I understand, the other half…it’s going too quick.” Edward scratched the back of his head, frowning as they followed after Tearlach. He carved the way through the crowds without apology. Tearlach had them stop at several merchant stalls, and away he went, bartering and haggling as he went down the list of items still in need of purchasing.

“At least you understand half of it,” Alphonse said as they wound their way past another merchant stall, this one hawking away its wares of freshly caught fish and crab and oysters. “I only get every other word.”

“Seriously?” Bish hissed back, her brows shooting up in surprise. “Spanish is easy.”

“Easy for you,” Lupin remarked back, before yelping when Bish whirled to pinch her. “Ow! The fuck, dude?”

“What did I say, girl? No talking!” Tearlach barked over his shoulder.

Lupin muttered a few curses under her breath, some aimed at Tearlach. Bish turned back to Alphonse and quietly continued, “I could give you a few lessons. It really is easy. And if Loopy here had taken a damned language class in school, she’d know how easy it is.”

“Hey, I needed that advanced placement art class in my senior year. And all the other years. And I took…sign language. In middle school. I don’t need to know it to tell you how to fuck off nonverbally, though.”

“Learning another language is part of the art electives. And I will finish what you failed to do with your fingers, sweetie. Just try me.”

Bish smiled sweetly at Lupin and the smaller girl inched around Edward to put him between her and Bish. He glanced down at her with a flat look. “Really?”

“You should be honoured that I chose you as a shield to put between me and her. You don’t fuck with the Guatemalan rage-monster. You just don’t.”

“She’s right, you don’t,” Bish replied with a chipper smile.

“My mistake. I’m honoured,” Edward said flatly as he looked, although the façade didn’t hold for long and a faint smile briefly tugged his lips up. As much as he wanted to be irritated, he couldn’t quite feel it in him to do so. It felt good to be on dry land, to be around other people, to see the booming life that was here. While they were isolated on the _Black Pearl_ , it was him and his brother against the others, and at times, it was lonely.

With no land in sight, it was hard to feel like there was anything more out there besides the ocean stretching out as far as the eye could see. He knew better, and Alphonse did as well, but that didn’t negate the feeling of sheer remoteness, like the water was all that was left in the world. No land, no other people, nothing.

Humans were resourceful in driving away the feeling of isolation, sure…but sometimes it wasn’t enough.

Edward wanted to enjoy his time on land and that meant reining in whatever snappish remarks he might have let loose if the situation were any different. He didn’t want a repeat of the argument he had with Lupin a few weeks ago. Turning away perhaps one of the few allies he felt he could trust, even by a single iota, wasn’t in his plans. He has long since come to the conclusion that he and Alphonse would need all the allies they could get if they were to get back home.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It wasn’t unusual for Jack Sparrow to garner more than his fair shares of stares due to his eclectic dress. He often embraced the weirdness he had steeped himself in. Today, however, he was in need of keeping himself incognito, and especially careful. That bloody Norrington was hot on his trail, if that storm hasn’t sank his fleet already.

It was by pure luck that Jack had been given his new lease on life, when both Will and Elizabeth defended him at the gallows, when Norrington had willingly given him a head start.

It was only a temporary measure and one he planned to make permanent.

The first step was getting information.

He only wished it was from someone else.

Jack always found himself at odds with his fellow Pirate Lords, but none so much as one Captain Eduardo Villanueva. The man had a mental vendetta against pirates who haven’t the years of experience that Villanueva himself has had under his belt as a pirate. Not to his level of standards, anyways.

The bar in which Villanueva resided in was a comely little thing, hidden betwixt twists and turns and the deepest, seediest bowels of the city. A place where no one would find, unless they knew where to look, had the patience to navigate the route, or had someone to guide them. The courtyard bristled with men lounging about, having a good time, and quite a few were accompanied by pleasurable young ladies. Their bright ruffled skirts swirled as they moved about, flashing coy looks at interested parties. Jack himself lost a moment to stare in appreciation and he even flashed a grin to one particular buxom Spanish beauty and felt himself gravitating towards her.

If only Villanueva hadn’t parked himself in Jack’s path, he could have had a good time before talking with the irate and proud Spaniard.

Villanueva was just as Jack last remembered him as; perhaps a little rounder in the belly and his hairs were beginning to look more grey than black now. Still, the man exuded a quiet demand for respect and despite being shorter than Jack, Villanueva stared at Jack as though he was peering down his nose at him.

“Sparrow,” the man rumbled with a vague tilt of his head. Jack glanced over Villanueva’s shoulder, spying the buxom Spanish beauty. She’s already moved on, but she blew him a kiss before turning away. She was giggling at her new companion. Jack’s upper lip twitched.

Damn.

He returned his attention to Villanueva, offering a nod of his own. “Captain Villanueva. I almost didn’t recognize you without your ship beneath you.”

“Ha. You think you’ll charm me like you believe you charm the world?” Villanueva spat on the ground. “The _Centurion_ is in hiding, as she should be when I’m about in public ports such as this. Being caught by the Spanish Navy is not high on my list of things to do these days, not when I am close to retiring. But I can’t say the same for you, Sparrow.”

“Oh? Care to enlighten me?”

“Gladly. You bring your precious _Pearl_ limping into port, not even bothering to hide her black sails. You might as well have a target painted on your back.”

“I wouldn’t say we _limped_ into port,” Jack smoothly addressed, feeling slightly offended. His girl doesn’t limp. She sails with style. “And secondly, we’ve made port because we were in need of supplies. We have goods to trade—”

Villanueva’s sardonic laughter cut him off and rang across the courtyard. Most of the noise around them fell to a hush, if only for a moment, before its buzz came right back at full volume. The Spaniard turned on his heel and made for the bar proper. Jack followed.

“Goods, you say. What goods? Treasure from Isla de Muerta?”

Jack’s ire climbed up a notch as Villanueva barked out another round of mocking chuckles. It had been a bitter blow to find the island vanished without a trace, as though it had never existed, after his escape from Port Royal. Jack had been fencing his hopes on paying out his men, on trading for goods and for repairs on his ship. His hopes had been thoroughly dashed at Isla de Muerta’s disappearance.

Jack had only just barely scraped together enough for the basics, and the rest had been that bastard Barbossa’s men’s doing. Their hulls had been bursting with extra supplies and a small cache of swag, so ready and eager were they to transition from skeletal wraith-men to full men. They barely got to taste their freedom as actual men before bloody Norrington and his men snatched it away from them.

It was only salt in the wound to hear Villanueva’s doubt being spoken so brazenly and with such disrespect.

“The only thing you have worth anything is your head’s bounty and the ship you’re sailing on, if only barely that. You’d best not let some rogue steal it away from you again. You might not get it back a second time around.”

Inside, the droning buzz of voices was louder, it was more crowded, and it was hotter with all the bodies writhing about inside, drinking the day away. It would be even more boisterous come nighttime.

Villanueva approached the bar and motioned to the barkeep. The man behind the counter nodded, rifling through his supplies to serve Villanueva. Jack leaned against the counter beside the Spaniard, giving the place a cursory look and lingering on a few individuals. None sprang to mind as familiar, yet he was suspicious all the same.

“What are you doing so far from home, little Sparrow? Shouldn’t you be causing someone else a headache over in the Spanish Main, hmm?”

The man uttered a few words of thanks to the barkeep as he returned with a drink for Villanueva. Jack attempted to flag him down, but the barkeep ignored him completely. Jack soured internally, but he wouldn’t allow it to completely dishearten him. He simply stepped away to snatch up the mug of a patron snoozing on the bar counter, his drink forgotten completely.

It went down sour yet strong as he took his first sip.

“I would be, but I have a bit of a mission I’m working on, I’m afraid.”

“And that concerns me how?”

“I need information. In order to get that information, however, I need to know where Captain Teague is.”

A new light arose in Villanueva’s dark eyes. A sliver of respect at the mention of the Keeper of the Code. He slowly lowered his flagon, ignoring the dewy buildup clinging to his greying whiskers as he regarded Jack carefully. He cast slow, deliberate looks around them before jerking his head in a nod.

“Come. We’ll speak elsewhere. I don’t trust the ears in this place.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Villanueva led Jack to another establishment a few streets down from the seedy pub, this one a woman’s shop for clothes and garments. The couple that manned the shop took one look at Villanueva, and then Jack as he crossed the threshold, before scuttling over to lock the doors behind the two men. The woman paused to speak softly in Spanish to Villanueva, her words too quick and mumbled to catch. She glanced at Jack, her bright sienna eyes filled with a mixture of curiousity and worry.

Villanueva rumbled back, patting the woman on the cheek with a softness in his eyes. He turned to Jack, the steely glint back in his dark eyes as he growled, “Let’s go.”

Through the shop he led Jack, and into the back, up a set of stairs. The steps creaked and groaned, but they held as the men ascended to the third floor. The two pirates traversed along a narrow hallway, stopping at the last door on the left. Villanueva ushered Jack inside after unlocking the door.

It was sparsely furnished inside, with only a sagging dresser, a dusty chair, and a worn bed with a threadbare wool blanket. Villanueva sat himself in the only chair, and it groaned under his weight as he settled.

“So. You want to find Captain Teague.”

“I’m sure I’ve established this already, yes.” Jack responded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I’ve been ‘aving a spot o’ trouble locatin’ ‘im and thought to meself, who else would have any idea t’ where he might be?”

“Is that what you tell yourself? That I have any clue to where your father is?”

“That’s the gist of it.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

“And I have mine for not helping.”

“I think you’ll help.”

“Oh, is that so? What makes you say that?”

“The Code.”

Villanueva’s face darkened with hints of red beginning to speckle his cheeks and nose. “You dare incite the Code to me—”

“I do an’ can, an’ as such, I need to consult with the Keeper of the Code on matters that, frankly, aren’t any of yer business. But I need to know where the Keeper of the Code is in order to consult with said Keeper on matters of grave importance. I _need_ to know where ‘e is, Eduardo. Not want. Need. I’ve ‘eard you might ‘ave been in contact with ‘im recently.”

The redness in Villanueva’s face didn’t dissipate completely, but it mellowed several shades as he regarded Jack in silent fury. He stared for nearly a minute simply fuming at him, before he finally averted his gaze.

“ _Pedaso de mierda._ ”

Jack inclined his head at the other man, frowning in disapproval.

“Now, that’s not very nice. We’re all friends here.”

Villanueva grunted. He rolled to his feet, his frame rigid and tight, looking ready to pounce.

“I’ll get back to you in a few days. Try not to cause a commotion. I’d like to sit in one spot for more than a few weeks.”

“Thought you were retired.”

“Retiring. Not here.”

“Found a replacement, have you?”

Villanueva considered Jack almost thoughtfully as he paused at the door. “No. I’ll hang on to it until I’ve found a worthy successor. You?”

“Nobody springs to mind, sadly.” Jack shrugged. “I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you, though.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course you will.”

The older pirate grunted again, leading the way out and back down to the shop below. The woman and the man were working away in the back when they entered. The woman paused in her work, however, to come to Villanueva. She embraced him tightly, shooting off rapid-fire questions. Jack caught the gist of what was exchanged. He stood by, taking note of the guarded expression the young man was casting between the woman and Villanueva and Jack himself. He was a handsome lad, if a little young, with a small scar above his lip. Jack inclined his head toward the young man.

“My niece and her husband,” Villanueva said, interrupting Jack’s thoughts. “They own this shop. Very good, very honest work. I try not to interfere if I can help it. I don’t want the Navy to come for them just to get to me. I’ll be leaving in a few weeks’ time.”

“What for?”

“I told you, I’m retiring. I’ll probably be down your alley soon enough, eh?”

“Whereabouts?”

“Like I’d tell you.”

“It’d make things go much smoother, if yer going t’ be in my terri’try for an extended period.”

Villanueva muttered another curse under his breathe before jerking his head. “Go now. I have some other business to attend to. You know the way out.”

Jack watched for only a moment, lingering in his spot before he noticed the young lad surging toward him, his jaw clenched and eyes burning. Jack leaned away from his touch, showing his hands in the air and let his fingers dance. The young man stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing.

“Going, lad. No need to make a fuss.”

He wiggled his fingers a little more purposefully in a mocking wave, weaving his way around Villanueva and his young niece to take his leave.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The shadows were growing long and dark as the sun began its final descent in the sky. The warmth in the air remained, as did the festive energies of the city and its people. He could hear the various chimes and peals of church bells ringing in the distance, beckoning to their good little sheep.

Jack perused through a few shops. Several of them his crew had already been through, while others were more of his own venue. He doubled back to the bar he had met Captain Villanueva at, if only for a few hours afterwards. By the time he left, the sun had well and truly set, and the streets were lit by lantern and torch. The glow of fire added an extra kind of warmth to the scenery.

All appeared well and relatively peaceful, but to Jack, things were stirring into a frenzy. He had leads. He had rumours of leads. He hoped to satisfy their legitimacy, but hope was starting to become a thing long since stretched thin and beyond its capacity to work out. Perhaps Captain Teague could settle things once and for all. The man’s mysteries had mysteries.

As good as he was with it, there were times when Jack hated the waiting. The waiting meant time wasted. It meant he was that much closer to the deadline with no results to show for it.

Jack stopped in his trek back to the docks altogether when he came across a sleeping form at the mouth of an alleyway, a hat tilted far down their head to cover their face. It wasn’t unusual to find someone or another snoozing on the streets. Some had no homes to go to. Others did, yet they chose not to go for reasons that were their own. They were easy pickings, Jack has come to find over the years. Whether it be a coin nicked from their pockets, or perhaps even a trinket in hand, he wasn’t one to let spoils be overlooked.

He gave his surroundings a quick check and found that no one else on the street was giving him a passing glance. Jack stepped closer, confident he could rifle through the lad’s pockets without disturbing him in the least. He stopped altogether when he noticed something was crawling atop the boy’s lap. It was tiny, whatever it was, and at first, he believed it to be rats, a pair of them. Although, he noted, when they squeaked, it sounded wrong.

That was when he noticed the fingers chewed to bloodied stubs and the faint bouquet of purification reached him as he inspected the lad closer. All grey-skinned and stiff, it was the beginnings of a rotting corpse. Jack leaned away.

Dead.

And no one else was going to take a second look at the lad until he was well and putrefied and writhing with rats and maggots and flies. What he died of, no one else would know of that, either. Sometimes, people dropped dead, or fell asleep and never awoke. Or they were hung at the gallows, executed by a firing squad, or run through by a sword, shot by cannon, drowned at sea…

So many ways to die in this world.

Jack didn’t let that deter him for long. Surely no one has thought to pick the poor boy’s pockets yet. He shooed away the furry body, unconcerned when it flopped over and squeaked at him. Jack came away with not much except perhaps the lad’s vest—its condition good and perhaps close enough to new as it could get. He paused at the crawling little bodies still trying and failing to climb the dead lad.

They weren’t rats, he realized. They were kittens.  Jack grimaced, baring his teeth as he considered the little creatures.

Oh, that was just not fair.

He uncurled himself back up to his feet, lips still peeled back as he motioned for the felines to go away. They continued their plaintive squeaks, ignoring him entirely. One of the kittens was back to nibbling at the already chewed-on fingers. Jack spun on his heel, taking a few brisk if wobbly steps away.

Cats. He wasn’t a cat person. Annoying little animals, they were.

He made it only a few steps before he stopped completely.

Although…as annoying as they were, it pained him to even admit it to himself, the little lass Lupin was only right about one item: they were hunters. They hunted other animals. Rats were a nuisance and he couldn’t afford to lose any hands to some plague the little bastards carried. The pox, yellow fever, the plague, even a common illness could ruin things.

Jack himself could catch something, if they continued rolling around in the food, if her word had any merit of truth.

Most importantly of all, they were hunters.

Not just of rats, but perhaps also of a certain annoying undead monkey that was plaguing his ship one day.

If they got fat enough on the rats, then a monkey would be next to nothing.

Jack already found himself hating the decision: cats or no cats. He disliked cats…but he hated that undead monkey even more. And the idea of him, Captain Jack Sparrow, being done in by a little cough, was not high on his agenda. Being done in at all, _ever_ , was not either. He struggled a little longer with even entertaining the idea of having the deplorable little creatures aboard his precious _Pearl_ , usefulness notwithstanding. On the one hand, they would be helpful. On the other hand…he hated them. He also didn’t want to give in to the demands and whims of a woman who would be proven right.

_And yet, it would be worse luck to not have them aboard._

He barely qualified as the superstitious type. He had no qualms with women aboard his ship, so long as they proved useful—physical strength was not the only thing he desired for working hands, after all. There was cleverness to contend with when it came to womenfolk. They often saw things differently than men, viewed problems from a different perspective and came to differently conclusions and solutions.

This, he grudgingly admitted, would certainly be one of them.

Cats, he’s heard the rumours flitting about over the years, were often enough good luck charms aboard ships, if one were to believe in that frivolity.

He didn’t believe in the superstition of bad luck with women. Perhaps he could allow, this once, for himself to believe the same for the mangy little fur balls. That didn’t mean he had to like them, but merely admit that they were the lesser of two evils. Or three, if anyone was counting.

Jack doubled back, hesitating every time he tried to pick up the furry little bastards, grimacing all the while. He managed to snag one of the kittens up by the scruff of the neck. It squirmed in his grasp and squeaked in protest, clumsily pawing at the air.

“You come near me or my cabin, and I’ll have you for dinner, savvy?”

He plopped the kitten into his coat pocket, reached over and snatched the other one up.

“Same goes for you.”

That one went in as well, right atop its companion.

When Jack returned to the _Pearl_ later that evening, he found most of the crew gone for the evening, all except for a skeleton watch and his four newest hands. They had either voluntarily elected to stay behind or they had graveyard shifts later that night. Either way, it would make this transition easier, he reasoned, as he swept through the cots, looking for Lupin.

He found her hidden away in a corner rack, her friend snoozing in the cot above. Jack shook the young woman awake and she slurred out a few sleepy insults at him, one of which sound suspiciously like “fuck off”. It miffed him, but not completely enough to deter him. When she finally managed to lift herself up, he promptly plopped the vest in her lap, alongside the two little beasts in his pockets.

“Whassis?”

“These are yours. Keep them out of my cabin and well away from me. Let them have free reign in the hull all you like and we’ll have no issues.”

“Wha…?”

Lupin groaned, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes with her good hand, even as he left without another word.

She’d figure it out. She was smart enough.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Notes: In the 18th century, sailors considered it good luck to have cats aboard their ships. They especially, and very ironically, considered it even luckier if they had a black cat on their vessel. Yeah, you read that right: black cats (which everyone now associates with bad luck even to this day)! A polydactyl (or many-toed) cat was even luckier still, as they believed it made them better mousers, as well as better equipped at climbing around the ship. If a cat was thrown or lost overboard, it would conjure a deadly storm, but if it survived it would bring about seven years of bad luck. They also considered cats to be magic, as they could predict the weather, good or bad. Although, scientifically speaking, this isn’t completely superstitious hoo-ha, as cats are more sensitive to weather changes than human beings are, so there is some truth to the tall tales!**
> 
> **I have a wonderful, if smug, black cat myself. His name is Thor. He’s almost twenty pounds and that ain’t fat, it’s pure muscle (unlike my tabby, Freckle, who is a bit of a chubby baby, but he’s got a lot of love to give so it balances out). Thor thinks he runs this house like a little lion in my living room. I love him all the same, the lazy little lug.**
> 
> **Also, I don’t think Jack cares much for cats. Or dogs. Or animals in general. He finds them moderately useful to extremely annoying to really delicious (depending on what they are lol). Mostly though, I see him as pretty indifferent to animals in general altogether. That’s how I see it, anyways.**


	11. Been A Long Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**  
>     
>  **Notes: I’ve been going through my notes and general outline for the rewrite of Up is Down. Some chapters will be axed completely, mostly because the plot demands the irrelevancy of things to be dissipated. Others will be absorbed completely together to form one new chapter. Just a heads-up!**
> 
>   **Also, to my recent reviewer, I'm not entirely sure what your point is, other than the last bit. Are you upset that there are only ten chapters or were you just pointing out that there were only ten chapters? Juuuust trying to clarify and if this is my only way of communicating (since you apparently don't want things private) I'm doing it through here.**
> 
> **Just let me know.**
> 
> **EDIT: I see now what you meant, my lovely reviewer! That definitely was a bit of a mix up on my end. Your message was a bit confusing; I didn't realize you meant that the chapter had been posted TWICE! But I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you. Thank you so much!**

  **OoOoOoOoOoO**

 _It's been a long year_  
_And all this mess around me has finally cleared_  
_So can I have a moment just to say hello_  
_Can you let your anger go?_  
_It's been a long year_  
_And I'm finally ready to be here..._  
**-“ _Been a Long Day_ ” by Rosi Golan**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Dude, what did you _do_?”

“The fuck if I know.”

“How can you not _know_ , you have _cats_ in your _lap_.”

Bish found that she could only stare at her friend, who was perched atop a barrel in the galley, the aforementioned felines snoozing away in peace. Her friend had an odd mixture of confusion, contentment, and worry painted on her face.

“I would tell you if I knew! They were here when I woke up this morning and I—oh. _Oh_ …” Lupin abruptly cut off, her eyes widening as something dawned upon her. Bish waited, and when the silence stretched on, she issued a soft noise of frustration.

“ _Oh_? What ‘oh’? What’s the ‘oh’ for? Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

“Um…that would depend on how you see it. I think…well, we all went to bed last night and I—I dunno, I thought I dreamt it, but I think Jack stopped by and woke me up, plopped them in my cot and left. Said something about his cabin and the hull and shit. It’s kind of fuzzy, I was pretty tired.”

“You? The insomniac, tired?” Bish’s smile was incredulous at best. She knew her friend was a restless sleeper to the point of pulling all-nighters. Lately, she’s been sleeping better, but not by much.

“I have some good nights where I sleep all the way through. Most of them, though, I’m waking up a lot, tossing and turning. Can’t seem to stick…” Lupin stopped herself and shook her head, as though trying to cast away her rambles. “But yeah. I kind of remember it now. Jack came by, woke me up, gave me these guys. I’m…not sure what his endgame is here.”

The Hispanic woman snorted as she leaned closer and rubbed at one of the cats’ heads. The response it elicited was immediate and desired: the kitten stretched, squeaked, and purred, arching into Bish’s touch. She wiggled her fingers a little more, cautious elation swelling in her.

“Awww. I hope we really do get to keep them. I mean, it’s gotta suck being a cat on a ship, but I kind of don’t wanna get rid of them now that they’re here. This one looks a lot like Twinkie…”

Bish smiled wistfully as she patted the tawny tabby. It squeak-meowed right back, and dammit if she couldn’t admit that it melted her heart a little. The little kitten really did remind her of her beloved cat back home. She hoped that this wasn’t some cruel-intentioned prank Jack was playing on them both.

“If he’s seriously considering your ‘cats get rid of rats’ bargain, I got to work on my own stuff for next time.”

“You might not have to. We have shore leave today,” Lupin offered helpfully.

Bish considered that before she replied with a grin, “And we just got paid. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A bath.”

“A _bath_ ,” Bish emphasized with a nod and a sigh. “I never thought I’d think of baths as a luxury. I asked around while we were out and about yesterday and there’s a public bathhouse not far from the docks. We could go there and get refreshed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Lupin conceded wholeheartedly with a grin. “We can put these guys in one of the empty chicken coops until we get back. Give me a minute, I’ll meet you by the cots.”

Bish responded with an affirmative to the plan, leaving Lupin to gather up the kittens and place them into one of the coops with food and water. The chickens were none too happy, but began to settle almost as quickly. The two young women left the confines of the _Pearl_ after gathering up their bags and their coin. It was a beautiful day, they noted as they stepped out onto the deck. The sky was a deep hot blue, with a warm sun beating down on the bustling city of Cádiz beyond. The merchant stalls out on the docks and quays were bursting with crowds, the ambient buzz of their voices filling the air.

“Oi, ladies!”

The two young women turned to the source of the voice, curious, and found two of Jack’s men lounging by the stairs that led to the quarterdeck. The first was Leech, watching them both with a solemn expression on his face. His dark eyes told a different story however. There was a thinly veiled dislike and contempt glittering in their depths. His companion was quite the opposite.

An Irishman born and bred, Seamus Finnigan, was a particularly odd fellow. He didn’t have much of opinion toward the idea of having women aboard the ship, unlike the others. Some have made their discontent incredibly vocal, while he often enough swatted their remarks aside.

“ _If they do the work they’re assigned, why bother them? If anything, it helps free up our hands from having to do any more work ourselves,_ ” was the first thing he told the others when the comments began in their first few weeks aboard the _Pearl_. It wasn’t strictly supportive, but neither was it entirely putting them down either. He was one of the few that Lupin and Bish tolerated more openly. It didn’t hurt that he was a bit roguishly handsome with his rich head of red hair, light complexion, and freckles galore. 

Seamus gave them a lopsided grin as he stood and trotted over. He had an apple in hand and began tossing it back and forth, its fresh skin gleaming in the morning light.

“Where is it that you’re off to, Miss Lupin, Miss Bish?”

“Off to see the wonderful Wizard of Oz.”

Seamus’s smile dropped away completely in lieu of a perplexed expression, looking taken aback at Lupin’s remark. She grinned and chuckled.

“Relax. It’s a joke. You do know what those are, right?”

“Aye, I do. Bit of a funny one, aren’t ye, Miss Lupin?” Seamus scratched the back of his head, mussing up his hair. He offered an uncertain smile, as though he still didn’t quite get her sense of humour. Bish snickered softly, nudging Lupin in her side.

“Right, well—we’re heading out into town for a few hours. Do you really need to know where?”

“Not the particulars in the business ye’re attending, no. But I do need to be sure that ye’re leavin’ the ship for a while. For the logbook.”

“You’re kidding me,” Bish replied. Seamus shook his head 

“Not a bit, Miss Bish. We’re serious about the accountability of our men. And women, in this case.” He said with a lopsided grin.

“Seamus,” Leech called, interrupting their conversation. “Don’t waste any ink having them write down their whereabouts. If they were to be left behind, it would not be much of a loss, if any at all. I doubt our ‘beloved’ captain would care a whit if that happened.”

Lupin bristled and Bish made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat as they exchanged incredulous looks with one another.

“Hey, fuck you, man—if Jack didn’t give a damn, we wouldn’t be here!”

“Do you really wish to pursue this conversation and remain unscathed? I suggest you don’t, if you know what’s good for you,” Leech pressed darkly, standing up slowly and laying a hand bedecked in several rings upon the butt of his pistol, and the other beside the hilt of his scimitar. The hairs on the back of Lupin’s neck stood on end as she curled her good fist at her side, glaring at Leech. Seamus stepped a little closer, planting himself between the two women and the Indian man, looking sorely unsure of what to do. There was absolutely no lost love between them and Leech.

Leech was openly outspoken on his stance with her and Bish being aboard the _Black Pearl_. He, like a few others, felt that they had no place on the ship. Bad luck, weaker physically, the whole shebang galore had been repeated time and again.

Running to Jack and tattling like a child was out of the question in her books. _If we can’t handle it ourselves, if we can’t learn to ignore the asshole naysayers, then we really don’t belong here._

Bish gently reached for Lupin’s wrist and gave it a soft tug.

“He’s not worth it, hun. As satisfying as it would be to see you punch him in the face, it just isn’t worth it. Let’s just go.”

Lupin grumbled, still glowering at the Indian man. She flipped him the bird just as another voice cut through the din.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Eyes and heads swiveled to the source of the new voice. Alphonse and Edward were coming up the gangplank, looking between all four of them and taking in the tension with wariness. Edward’s gaze lingered on Leech. Leech tilted his head back with his chin pointing in the air as he stared back, silently daring him to continue. His hands remained within reach or atop his weapons, further pushing his message across to them all.

“Oh, Mister Elric. And Mister Elric. Are you both returning from your shore leave for the day?”

Edward turned his golden gaze onto Seamus, his fierce stare softening only marginally.

“No. We were actually coming to get these two. Just put them down for us, would you? We’re on a schedule.”

“Aye, I can do that. Try to get back here afore sunset, aye?”

“Sounds good, we should be done by then. Hey Lupin, Bish. C’mon, we’ve got something to show you.”

Lupin shared another look with Bish, who simply shrugged and nodded her head towards the Elric brothers.

“Better than hanging around here with that asshole leering at us.”

Quietly, she had to agree with her friend and they followed after Alphonse and Edward with an extra bounce in their steps, glad to be rid of the extra tension.

“Where did you guys go?”

“Looking into places to go shopping.”

“You? Shopping? Scandalous. I never saw you as the type, Ed,” Bish said with a throaty chuckle. Edward snorted in return, giving her a flat look.

“It’s not like we had much of a choice. We both needed boots and new clothes. I’m guessing you do too.”

“No, what we need first is a bath.”

Edward ticked a brow, turning to look at her a little more fully, the expression on his face plain without needing words: ‘ _Explain_ ’. She snorted.

“There’s a bathhouse not far from here. Loopy and I plan on getting our clean on, and then I’m definitely looking into whatever passes for ‘modern’ hair products because this,” she said with emphasis, pointing to her thick curls, “is not easy to maintain with just a comb and some water splashed over it! Loopy does not suffer the same woes I do.”

“She’s right, I don’t. I don’t even get frizz-fro. My hair’s plain as they come.” Lupin said as she reached up and touched her head, smoothing out one fly-away lock.

“I’m envious of the easy maintenance,” Bish sighed wistfully.

“I’m envious for your curls.” Lupin countered.

“Yeah, you are.” Bish slyly grinned, waggling her brows.

Alphonse laughed quietly, and even Edward had a guarded smile in place.

“Think you could bear to have us tag along? I know I’d like to clean up a bit beyond a cursory wipe-down.”

“I don’t have any problems with that. Do you, Loopy?”

“Nah, not really.” Lupin shrugged. “Might make you more bearable to be around in general if you didn’t stink so much.”

She laughed at the sour look shot her way, waving her bandaged hand at the elder Elric. Her shoulders shook as she tried to contain herself.

“Kidding, kidding. Sheesh, lighten up, Ed. I didn’t really mean anything by it.”

His frown remained in place as he regarded Lupin, or more accurately, her hand. He fell into step with her, as Bish wandered a little ahead. Alphonse seemed to understand without needing to be told and picked up his own pace to match Bish’s, keeping close to her side as she continued to lead the way.

“Well, hello,” she said, raising a brow at him. “Can I help you?”

“You know, you shouldn’t bait those guys like you were doing earlier. One of them might not think about it when they decide to shut you up by hitting you, or worse.”

“I’m a big girl, Edward. I can take care of myself.”

He hesitated, a clipped remark on the tip of his tongue—but then he swallowed it back down, thinking better about it.

“It’s not that I don’t think you can do it yourself,” he started carefully. “I just don’t want to see you or Bish get hurt. A lot of the crew has mixed feelings about you two being there enough as it is. Don’t give them any reason to turn against you, is all I’m saying. Jack sure as hell isn’t going to protect you, and we aren’t always going to be there to keep an eye on you.”

“We never asked for that—” Lupin started to reply defensively, but she stopped when he held up a hand.

“I’m just trying to help. I’m not trying to start a fight. Not again.”

She opened her mouth, whether to snap back or what, Edward wasn’t sure. But she stopped herself short, closing it as she dropped her gaze, her lips pursing. She was quiet for a short while as they weaved their way through the crowds along the streets. Bish and Alphonse weren’t too far ahead of them, although they did stop on a street corner to wait for him and Lupin.

“I know you’re only trying to help,” she conceded at last. “But don’t treat me or Bish like we aren’t aware of our own situation on the _Pearl_. We know a number of the crew hate our guts just because we don’t dangle between our legs. But you know what? That’s okay. We’re going to prove those assholes wrong. Just you wait. They ain’t gonna know what hit them by the time we’re through with them. _Parvus sed potens_.”

Edward studied her, seeing the sheer determination in the clench of her jaw, the glower in her eyes, the rigid line in her shoulders. He was a little taken aback by the quip in Latin she gave him. Just as quickly as surprise came to him, he felt amusement replacing it.

_Parvus sed potens._

Small, but mighty.

How aptly put.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The bath house was, in a word, huge. Grand, even. The construction, while obviously ancient compared to the surrounding structures, was overall stunning. The limestone and concrete mortar were expertly crafted, even with the faint traces of decay spotting here and there. Once again, Lupin and Bish alike wished that they had cameras.

“It doesn’t look Spanish, though. Not like the rest of the city’s architecture. Look at the pillars. The columns, I mean,” Lupin said with a frown, pointing at the aging white stone. They all looked, staring, assessing. Bish hummed in agreement, taking a few cursory looks at some of the surrounding buildings and then back at the bath house, recognizing that her friend was right.

“It looks…Roman, almost,” Edward noted. “Their empire stretched pretty far. It wouldn’t be too farfetched to believe their influence stretched all the way out here and stuck around.”

The circled the entire structure, finding multiple entrances. Bish went to work on the locals and Edward helped a bit himself. Between the two of them, they both gathered enough intel to recognize that there were six entrances in total.

“You two have your own entrance, for the women’s side of the bath house. Alphonse and I will have to use the other side. How about we meet back out here in the plaza in about an hour? We can go finish up our errands together after that.”

“Sounds reasonable to me,” Bish nodded, glancing at Lupin. She bobbed her head in agreement. When all was said and done, they went their separate ways, looking for the entrance for the women’s side of the bath house. When they found it, they passed through the principal entrance and were greeted by a trio of women, dressed demurely in layered skirts and long-sleeved blouses with colourful stitching in the hem. They spoke softly and quickly in Spanish, leaving Lupin feeling more than flabbergasted and lost. She looked to Bish quietly for translation.

“They’re requiring payment up front,” Bish interpreted before adding helpfully, “They work here.”

“Oh. I…caught maybe one word that I kind of knew,” Lupin replied, smiling sheepishly. Coming from southern California, she knew about a third of the population spoke Spanish, maybe more. Maybe she _should_ have taken a Spanish language course back in middle or even high school.

 _Too late for that now_ , she thought with a grimace as she glanced at Bish again. “How many—I mean, how much?”

Bish turned to one of the women and fired off the question. The one who answered glanced Lupin’s way, who smiled awkwardly once again, looking apologetic. They managed to settle the price, finding their coin pouches lighter than they had begun with. They were led through a narrow stone hallway and into an atrium. It was warmer within the chamber to the point of steamy. Lupin shivered pleasantly and even Bish was smiling in anticipation.

The woman who led them into the atrium motioned to an open doorway. Bish translated after she finished speaking.

“That’s the changing room. We can store anything we have in there. On the other side of the changing room, there’s three bathing rooms: the warm room, the hot plunge room, and the cold pool room.”

“You already know which room I want.”

“I think we go through them one at a time. It’s like a thing, not a ‘choose at your leisure’ deal.”

“Oh. Okay. Weird, but different.”

“You’re weird.”

Lupin made an ugly snort, shrugging nonchalantly.

“What else is new?” Just as she said this, the woman took her leave, bustling past them back the way they had come. Lupin grunted. “I guess that answers that. We’re on our own.”

“Guess so.” Bish shifted her pack more securely to her shoulder, practically buzzing with excitement. “Let’s hurry up, okay? I really want to wash this grime off!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Phrasing, boom.”

“Goddammit, woman!”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

She was never going to take baths or showers for granted again when she got back home. Never, ever.

It felt good to have her skin cleared up of grime and dirt she hadn’t even been aware of. She had been under the impression that she had done a decent job in keeping herself clean, and for the most part, she has. _I’ll just have to be extra vigilant_ , Bish resolved quietly to herself.

She wasn’t the one who was trying to climb the Jacob’s ladder up into the masts all the time, after all. She also wasn’t the one who was in charge of all the animals aboard the ship, nor did she hang out with an undead monkey. How her friend had managed to halfway befriend the damned thing was beyond her comprehension, although she knew that Jack the Monkey still bit or scratched Lupin from time to time. It wasn’t a completely tame relationship between the two of them, but it also wasn’t as vitriolic as the one between Jack the Monkey and Jack the Pirate.

When she and Lupin left the bath house through the women’s entrance, the sun had dipped down considerably in the sky, its heated tendrils sinking into every nook and cranny it could. The plaza was a little emptier of people, but the lively buzz and hum of life still thrived. Edward and Alphonse were lounging beside a fountain in the plaza, watching as a few children went screaming and laughing past them. Edward looked slightly annoyed and impatient, Alphonse amused in contrast.

“Finally,” Edward complained as he spotted them first, giving Alphonse a soft tap on the shoulder with the backs of his knuckles. They stood and moved closer towards the two women, closing the distance quickly. They had a healthier, cleaner glow to their skin and sheen to their hair. It was an improvement, to say the least. “We thought you’d never leave. The women inside wouldn’t let us past the foyer. They kept shooing us out, telling us we couldn’t go in the back.”

“Omigod, you’re such a peeping Tom, Ed. I know you’re tempted, but you’re not allowed to peek at my girls, I’m sorry. I just can’t let you. My dignity wouldn’t allow me.” Bish replied without missing a beat. Edward scoffed, trying to not appear irked and failing, if the faint creeping blush was anything to go by.

“Please. Like you have anything I’m interested in at peeping at.”

“Aw, Loopy, look. His face is getting red. Think he’s mad that I’m teasing him?”

“I’m not mad, I know you’re trying to bait me, and I’m not falling for it! Now let’s just get this over with already!”

“His face is like a tomato!” Bish cackled at Ed’s retreating backside before adding softly so only Lupin could hear, “Bet he was really trying to sneak a peek at you, though, to be honest.”

“I will hurt you,” Lupin said in a snippy tone, trying and failing to hide the embarrassed grin on her face.

“You can try, sweetie, you can try.” Bish chuckled. She bumped the smaller woman. “Go catch him before he gets lost or worse, tries to ditch us.”

She snickered after Lupin, who made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat, but the smaller woman obliged all the same. Alphonse gave her a reproachful look.

“Do you have to tease him like that all the time?”

“Oh, it’s good for him. He needs to loosen up a bit. He’s always so uptight.”

“He’s worried, and for good reason. I think you already know why.”

The Hispanic woman sighed, wishing she could deny it and play ignorant, but found herself nodding all the same. “I know, Alphonse. I’m sorry. I just don’t believe thinking and constantly worrying about it all the time doesn’t really help. It isn’t like we can help it.”

“Technically, we could help it. We could leave the _Pearl_ and find our own way.”

Bish hesitated, falling quiet. She and Alphonse continued along, following after Edward and Lupin, who were a little ahead of them.

“I don’t think that’d be such a great idea,” she said in a soft voice, her earlier humour gone without a trace.

“Sailing with pirates isn’t a great idea either, Bish. Especially if we’re caught by law enforcement,” Alphonse replied gently. She sighed, pursing her lips.

“Can you…can you do me a favour, please?”

“What is it?”

“Please just trust me. Trust me and trust Lupin, especially when I say that we’ll be worse off on our own than with Jack. I know he seems iffy and weird, but…he’s an overall good guy. An oddball, yeah, but he does want to help. I genuinely believe that.” She said, looking up at Alphonse with an imploring look in her dark brown eyes. “I know he’s good, because he legit could have let you and Ed die and not care. Plenty of pirates would have done that. Jack…he’s different. Yeah, Lupin and I had to negotiate our way into staying on the _Pearl_ , but he could have been a hard ass about things and not let us come with him at all to help you and Ed. He actually gives a damn about helping us. Can you say the same about any of his men, any of them at all?”

Alphonse was the one who hesitated this time around, reluctance clearly written across his face as he considered her inquiry. After thinking on it, he couldn’t think of one crewmember who would have done what Jack Sparrow did, not really. Some barely came close enough to maybes. Even after the last few weeks at sea with the man, he still couldn’t quite figure him out. Yet Alphonse did share the same belief in the man, that Jack was good, if a little skewed in his methods at showing it. Bish was also right in the fact that he could have left him and Edward for dead, or worse. He could have refused Bish and Lupin passage, but because of their overall strange predicament, he chose to believe them—to believe him and Edward—about everything.

How many people in this world—in this century even—would have done the same as Jack?

Quite possibly, not very many, if any at all.

Captain Jack Sparrow was a strange enigma, and one his brother still hasn’t quite figured out. And it drove Edward up the wall. For all the complaints Edward had of Jack, he was still secretly puzzling him out, trying to understand what his endgame was.

Alphonse could only hope it didn’t cost them a price none of them were willing to pay in the end.

He mulled over that for some time, lapsing into a semi-comfortable silence with the young woman at his side. They drifted along the streets, following after Lupin and Edward. For the moment, they too seemed to be taking things in stride and for once, were not at one another’s throats.

That was good, he decided. His brother was rough around the edges with people most of the time. It was nice to see him getting along with someone else, especially when it was someone Edward had to interact with on a regular basis. For all the snippiness that passed between the two of them, Lupin was rather resilient and bounced back from his brother’s sharp remarks. In fact, she often enough rolled with the punches and dealt them back with equal fervor. Their recent altercation, while an exception to that, seemed to have finally faded for good.

They passed a few of shops that he recognized from his and Edward’s earlier trip through Cádiz. The tailor would have their clothes ready in two days’ time, and the cobbler around the same. His brother had to be the one to translate and speak on their behalf, and Alphonse would admit, he was slightly annoyed at being left in the dark half the time. He recognized very little of the language.

Edward had about two years’ worth of time he had spent traveling Europe on his own. As a result, his language skills were more than passable in German and French, and could keep himself out of trouble with enough Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian with smatterings of a few other lesser known languages under his belt. Adding to the two years he and Edward had traveled together after reuniting with one another, Edward had a total of four years’ worth of experience to Alphonse’s two. Alphonse had caught on to the Germany and French quickly enough—they had spent most of their traveling time between English, German, and French-speaking countries—but other language skills had suffered from lack of contact. Edward would occasionally promise to help expand upon that, but time constraints as well as their mission often got in the way of that. Noa had given him some lessons, when they had all been traveling together, but not enough to give him passable skills. He regretted not asking her sooner.

“Bish,” he found himself saying after a time.

“What’s up, Al?”

“Do you think you could teach me some Spanish?”

If he could expand his language skills, it would be beneficial as a whole. Alphonse could stop relying on Edward so heavily and could pull his own weight in that department. And besides, even by his own admission, his brother has admitted that his Spanish was just enough to keep him out of trouble. It was nowhere near perfect, and his accent was a bit atrocious when compared to those who spoke their mother tongue on a daily basis. Alphonse always had to bite his cheek to stop from laughing.

Bish beamed as she turned to look at him. There was an excited gleam in her eyes, bright and amused to no end. “Of course!”

“Really?” Alphonse would admit, while he was taken aback by her enthusiasm, he wasn’t deterred by her willingness.

“Yes, really! Jesus, what did you think I was going to do, say no and shut you down? Of course I can teach you. It’s not a problem. Spanish is super-easy. You’ll love it.”

Her grin was infectious and Alphonse found himself smiling back with equal eagerness. “I can’t wait! When can we start?”

Her smile broadened.

“Right now, if you’d like.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The _Pearl_ was a little more crowded by the time they all returned to the _Black Pearl_. The sky was a bruised royal purple and the clouds that had been moving in over the city were set aflame in soft reds and oranges, washing their colours over the stucco and wood finish of the city. The lanterns were lit and quite a few of the men were well into their drinking. Ladbroc was plucking away at his guitar, filling the air with a lively tune. Nobody bothered Lupin about dinner, but she guessed that several of the crewmembers were hungry and they just didn’t know it yet. Which was too bad, since the storeroom hadn’t been restocked fully yet. The most refreshing thing there was were the apples Tearlach had managed to negotiate in getting early on.

She was in a good mood when she ducked down below decks and into the galley, intent on checking on the kittens. They squeaked and squealed pleadingly with her as she unlatched the chicken coop she had them in. She gathered them up in her hands, along with a saucer of goat’s milk and made for her cot. They were quick to jump on the saucer, lapping it up hungrily while purring softly in contentment.

“So it is true,” Ed’s familiar voice rumbled in amusement. He came stalking into view, bringing a second lantern in to join the first Lupin had lit and hung close by. “Jack actually broke down and got you some cats.” 

“I guess so.” Lupin agreed. She turned and pulled the vest he had left her from under her pillow. She decided to slip it on, out of impulse. It actually fit rather well, which surprised her. She almost thought she would have to have it tailored to her frame. “This too. I feel spoiled.”

“Did he say why?”

“Nah. I was asleep when he did. Woke me up in the middle of the night to do it.”

“You were actually sleeping,” Edward asked, incredulous.

“Why does everyone know I don’t sleep all that well all of a sudden?”

“Well, I mean…how can you?” He motioned vaguely around them and Lupin sighed.

“I have no answer to that, honestly. Although to be fair, the ship has nothing to do with my bad sleeping habits, I had them before the _Pearl_. But anyway, back to cats.”

Edward smiled pensively. “Alphonse always wanted a pet cat. He’d always try to sneak strays in his—well, he’d try to sneak cats in wherever we went when we were younger. I couldn’t let him, though. We traveled a lot, we couldn’t take care of a pet.”

Lupin had to keep herself from blurting anything out, like “sneak them into his armour” or “you lived out of barracks and hotel rooms while on the road”. It was hard to fight the impulse. It was an ingrained kneejerk response and she had to remind herself that this wasn’t some Fullmetal Alchemist fan who looked like Edward Elric. This was _the_ Fullmetal Alchemist himself.

 _Don’t compromise yourself,_ she had to tell herself as she gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Well, then I’ll share the cats not only with Bish but with Alphonse too. He’ll probably be happy about that.” Her next smile came more naturally. “And how about you too? You could use a fuzzy friend, I can tell!”

Edward huffed out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No thanks, I’m not much of a cat person. Or an animal person in general, but if I had to choose, I prefer dogs. I doubt Jack will go for that, though. He barely seemed able to stomach the idea of these guys, if he’s really the one who brought them down to you.”

He did concede to wiggling his metal hand at one of the kittens. They barely noticed, too busy feeding from the saucer of milk, and he withdrew with a shrug.

“So what are their names?”

“Umm…good question…I didn’t think about that.” Lupin paused thoughtfully. Most of the day, she wouldn’t hesitate to admit, she hadn’t been thinking of the kittens. They had been a bit of a surreal discovery that morning, and she had almost been expecting to find them gone by the time she and the others were back. It had been an even bigger and more pleasant surprise to find them still locked in the chicken coop, alive and well, if hungry and demanding attention.

“Blue and Max.”

“Blue and Max? Why those names?”

“Why not?”

“Fair enough, I suppose. Which is which, though?”

Lupin pointed to the tawny tabby, tracing one of the dark stripes with her fingertip. The kitten arched into her touch, pausing to squeak a broken meow at her. “This one, he’ll be Max.” She motioned to the white kitten with the black tail. “And this little guy, he will be Blue.”

“Okay. Blue and Max it is.”

He was quiet for a moment, watching as the kittens continued to lap up from the tin dish Lupin had set out for them. They could hear the tinny peal of bells from the various churches ringing in the distance, whether it was for the time of day or a signal for mass or something else entirely, neither of them could say. The distant yet constant humdrum buzz of the crowds that accompanied the soundtrack of the lapping of waves had died down considerably in the last hour or so since they’ve been back. The strum and pluck of the guitar Ladbroc was playing above decks was still going strong. There was a sudden uproar of laughter that drowned out everything else around them for a few moments.

At that point in time, everything was at peace. It all felt a little surreal.

The kittens finished their saucer and were curling up on the cot to snooze. Lupin sighed quietly and nudged Edward.

“C’mon. Let’s grab something to eat. My treat.”

“They’re not kids, you don’t have to whisper.”

“I’ve adopted them, they have names, they are my fuzzy skinny children. Hush,” Lupin chided teasingly, ignoring the half-hearted eyeroll he sent her way. They made their way to the galley, where the bushel of apples sat innocuously enough on Bubba. Half of the fruit was already gone. Clearly, those who were still hanging out on the _Pearl_ had rifled through the bushel. Lupin chose a particularly bright red-streaked apple and bit into it with hungry gusto, enjoying the sweet taste as she chewed.

Edward didn’t dig into his after he pulled it out of the basket right away. Instead, he turned it over in his hand, the automail one Lupin noticed belatedly. She took pause at his unusually somber quietness. Slowly, she found her appetite waning in lieu of her curiousity. Even the ambient noises around them seemed to fade.

“Shilling for your thoughts?” She joked, breaking the silence between them. Edward lifted his gaze to meet hers, focus realigning in his eyes. He didn’t smile, not quite, but he wasn’t frowning either as he considered her.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Apparently,” she responded in a flat tone, her smile thin and simply screamed ‘ _thank you Captain Obvious, I hadn’t noticed!_ ’

“Don’t be such a smart ass.”

“It’s like Bishquet said before, it’s much better than the alternative.”

“Ha-ha. You’re hilarious.”

“I like to think so,” Lupin chuckled, taking another nibble at her fruit. “But in all seriousness, what’s up? You’re not usually so quiet. Not without it being coupled with brooding or moody.”

“I’m not moody.” Edward grumbled back, looking mildly offended.

“Right, and I’m not almost as short as a Hobbit.”

He stared at her, perplexed. She sighed as she amended, “What’s on your mind? I’m being serious now. You know you and Alphonse can talk with me or Bish, right?”

This time Lupin offered a genuine and congenial smile, one she hoped that conveyed the truthfulness to her words. She was being sincere in her offer. If they were going to survive this long trip, they needed to keep a good standing relationship. Especially if they were going to weather out the duress of being on a confined ship for the length of time they were.

_We just have to survive until we reach Tia Dalma. I know she can fix this. She can help us. But we have to stick together._

Fighting over useless, stupid things like she had weeks ago, it wasn’t helping anyone at all.

Edward still hadn’t answered her. Instead, he pursed his lips as his silent stretched on, a strange stoniness etched so plainly on his face that the smile on Lupin’s face fell away completely. She suddenly felt very foolish and embarrassed for the childish offer she had blurted.

 _Right, because he’s suddenly going to open his mouth and spill his guts to you, is that what you thought? Fucking moron, that’s what you are,_ she scolded herself. Pretending otherwise was stupid all around.

“What’s it like in your time, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Just as quickly as she had decided to close her mouth on prying, she was taken aback by the sincere frankness of his words. Lupin stared in blatant perplexity. It took an extra few moments for it to fully sink in and his meaning to reach comprehension. Coherency caught up quickly enough after that and she cleared her throat politely, the apple in her hand and the hunger in her stomach nearly forgotten in full. The question, all in all, had completely blindsided her.

It had taken Edward and Alphonse alike time to fully accept the truth of Lupin and Bishquet’s claims that they weren’t from the same time period. It was a bit boggling to suddenly have one of them asking questions like this, especially from the most skeptical of the two brothers. It was downright strange altogether.

“I…I’m sorry, I don’t…that’s just out of the blue. You haven’t really—” she stopped as quickly as she started and exhaled sharply as she gathered her next words. “I honestly didn’t expect that kind of question to come from you. Ever. It’s…unexpected, to say the least.”

“I know it is. But it’s been driving me crazy for the past few weeks. I’ve been curious, but I haven’t really…expressed it.”

“I’ll say.” Lupin’s frown remained fixated in place as she tried to figure out what he was aiming for, exactly. She looked back at the apple in her hands, half-eaten and the pale fleshy innards already beginning to turn brown. She ran her thumb across a piece of intact skin. “Why do you want to know, Ed?”

Edward hesitated, seeming to be thinking with equal care on his next words. Everything—from the tension in the air to the unusual subdued message he was projecting with his body language alone—felt so off-kilter, Lupin was wondering if Edward had been kidnapped and replaced with someone else entirely.

“I want to know how different the world is. What it will be. What Al and I might have to look forward to in the future…if we can manage to get back to where we belong.”

“Ed, that’s…cheating, innit?”

“It’s cheating that we know this era is doomed. These pirates, they’re on their last legs. They’re on borrowed time. Pretty soon, there won’t be any pirates left. Not like this. I’ll bet Jack has asked a million times about whether or not he makes it.”

“No, actually, he hasn’t.”

Edward didn’t appear discouraged. “He’s biding his time, then.”

“Ed—”

“Then tell me just one thing. One thing, and I won’t ask again.”

His gaze turned sharp and focused, his bright eyes darkening over as he turned to pin it on Lupin. Her shoulders hitched with tension, her back stiffening in response as she became all too aware of how intense his attention on her had just become. She suddenly felt like a field mouse under the gaze of a lion.

“I need to know about one thing. Please,” Edward pressed, his gaze—still sharp and unyielding—softened slightly with an edge of pleading.

“What is it,” she found herself asking, although she didn’t quite recognize her own voice.

“I was—well, my brother and I—were on the trail of something. It was a kind of new weapon, made of an element called uranium.” Edward stopped shortly, pressing his lips together into a tight thin line. “Has anything like that ever cropped up? Anything at all?”

 _I have to lie to him,_ was Lupin’s first thought, and the moment it crossed her mind, she hated the idea and herself all at once. _If I don’t tell him, he’ll find out the hard way, sooner rather than later._

He’d eventually find out, and he’d spend the rest of his life hating her. She could taste bile in the back of her throat just thinking about it.  

“No,” she answered him after wrestling with herself on the matter. Elation and relief washed over Edward’s countenance, but it quickly eroded away as she quietly added, “There’s something much worse than a uranium bomb that’s coming.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean…it’s worse.” Her mouth was cotton dry and her tongue sluggish as she answered him. “They’re called atomic weapons, and the first ones were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan, during World War II. They helped bring a close to the end of the war, but…at the cost of two cities being absolutely decimated.”

Whatever hope that might have been clinging on in his eyes died away completely at that. At first, he stared at her silent disbelief and distraught, waiting for her to take back everything, to tell him she was joking—albeit a terribly executed gag—and that nothing like that ever existed. It began to dawn on him as the seconds dragged on that she was going to do no such thing, slowly but surely. Bitter resignation began to solidify in his golden gaze when he came to the conclusion that she wasn’t joking, that she was telling the truth.

“How long?”

“How long…what?”

“How long do we have?” He asked sharply. Lupin nearly flinched at his tone, hurt and taken aback.

“…the war started in 1939 and it ended in 1945. Adolf Hitler was the driving force behind the start of World War II.”

The light in his eyes darkened again as the seconds ticked by. She watched with baited breath, frozen to her seat as she watched him. Edward avoided looking at her directly, either the shock or disbelief rendering him silent. After a full minute of remaining tense and still as a statue, Edward was the first to break the spell between them. He stood, dropping the apple he had taken back into the bushel and left without a word.

Lupin watched in quiet dismay, but couldn’t find it in her to go after him. She was too busy drowning in guilt and regret to even think about it.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Notes: Curly hair is a bitch to maintain, all the while keeping them luscious and healthy. Bishquet knows this from personal experience. I am learning this through secondhand experience via my daughter’s hair. They are not easy to handle. I bow to those who have to endure real hair problems. But damn if they don’t look gorgeous when treated and styled right!**
> 
> **Also, I apparently love to punish myself because I tend to research small nuances a lot, like what kind of apples are grown in Spain and what they’re tastes are so I don’t fuck something up. My research isn’t always perfect, however, so sometimes things are bent a little bit for the sake of the story.**
> 
> **Cádiz had a Roman theatre built within the city in the first century and is considered one of the largest built in the Empire. It was subsequently abandoned in the fourth century, and later on in the thirteenth century, a fortress was built upon its ruins. It was later rediscovered in the 1980s.**


	12. Force of Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Notes: Yo, my reader peeps! Enjoy another chapter! :D**

  **OoOoOoOoOoO**

" _Fighting to protect the people you cared for was one thing. Trusting someone you loved to fight for themselves took a different kind of strength and bravery."_ _  
_**-Martina Boone, " _Illusion_ "**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The sky was clear that night as the stars shimmered until the dark before the dawn began to pluck them out of sight, one-by-one. A light fog had settled over the water of the Atlantic in the early morning hours, but it was thin and wispy, and would be easily dissipated under the growing rays of the sun later on.

Lupin was up before most everyone. She slept little that night, and for once it wasn't because of her insomnia. She couldn't sleep at all, too busy roiling in the guilt at revealing the truth of the future to Edward, of what was to come and what he should expect in the next decade or two. Bishquet had tried to coax out what had happened earlier the night before, but Lupin simply went to bed to avoid talking. Lupin regretted rebuffing her friend, especially in the wee hours of the morning before dawn, where she was wishing she had talked to her about it all instead.

Edward didn't speak to her at all the rest of the evening before that. Alphonse was oddly absent, but at the time she hadn't thought much on it. She had been too busy trying to navigate through the murkiness of her own emotions. She didn't know whether or not to continue feeling guilty, to be upset or angry or miserable or indifferent. By the end of the night, she was spent of it all, feeling hollow instead.

Most of the crew was still out and about among the town, with only a handful having returned to sleep off their hangovers. Everyone was still asleep as Lupin got up, moving in the semi-darkness of the _Black Pearl_. Once she was by the galley, she lit a lantern and hung it. The kittens waddled after her on unsteady legs, squeaking softly in pleading voices. She obliged in fetching them some goat's milk. In the next few days, the _Pearl_ and her crew would be leaving, with the _Pearl_ restocked with supplies. In fact, before the sun would set that day, they should be expecting everything to be delivered.

As the kittens ate, Lupin went about feeding and watering the animals, and taking out soiled bedding. She laid down fresh bedding after cleaning everything up. It didn't take her long and afterwards, she was back beside the kittens. They were skinny little things, perhaps only two months old at most. They weren't ready for hunting rats but in the coming months, they would be. That would be their time to shine and prove their true purpose.

When they finished up, she put them into the chicken coop again, leaving another saucer of milk in with them. They were too busy pouncing one another, now full and ready to play, to notice her absence. Lupin made her way topside, shivering in the cool morning air and hugging herself as she stepped across the deck and over to the gunwale, setting her eyes upon Cádiz. Mister Cotton and Marty were out already. The older man waved a skinny arm at her while his colourful blue-and-gold macaw squawked a greeting. Marty simply jerked his head in a nod toward her. She waved back before turning away.

It was eerily quiet, the hum of the waking day strangely muted to her ears. She could barely make out the first street beyond the merchant stalls along the docks, but the sun was warm and the sky mostly clear. Out across the bay, various vessels scuttled across the water—from small schooners and sloops to fishing vessels and galleons in similar build to the _Pearl_. Several more were tied at the docks, their wooden hides painted more brightly than the scorched finish of their ship. It was going to be another beautiful day, she gathered, as she felt the gooseflesh that pimpled her skin slowly began easing away.

It was still early. Hers and Bish's clothing and boots were possibly done by now. The shopkeeper said that their order could be completed early, if they managed their other orders in a timely fashion. A loosely-designed plan was forming in her mind, solidifying itself with every moment that passed. It wouldn't take her long to gather everything up, and she'd be back by mid-morning, if even that. Most of the shopkeepers spoke a little English, just enough to understand Lupin to the barest extent. So far, none of them seem overly bothered that she was a native English-speaking woman.

Perhaps a stroll into town to gather everything was what she needed. Some time and space, and running some errands at the same time to get things done. She also wanted a bit more time on dry land before they had to set sail again.

And she wasn't quite ready to be in another's company. Not yet.

 _If I bring a knife, I should be fine,_ she reasoned. She didn't see many, if any, people toting any swords around. Pistols, maybe—but they weren't very copious in numbers. She almost thought it a good idea to a take a sword herself. She quickly retracted it, recognizing that she wasn't trained in using one, and it would be doubly unusual for a small woman such as herself to be walking around with one that was almost as long as she was tall. A knife would be sufficient enough if she ran into trouble. It was easily hidden, easy to access.

 _I'm not a child,_ she added. _I should be able to walk down the street without needing an escort._

Lupin turned toward the quarterdeck, flagging Marty and Mister Cotton's attention as she crossed the deck.

 _I can do this,_ she told herself with confidence _. I just need a quick walkabout on my own to clear my head._

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

It felt good to sleep in.

Even if it was only temporary, it still felt amazing. Bish was fully intent on taking advantage of her ability to catch up on it all as much as she could. She grudgingly rubbed the sleep from her eyes, however, when she slowly began to remember that she wasn't at home. Again.

She sat up and got dressed, stretching all the while before getting to her feet and slipping her glasses on. Trudging along to the galley, Bish gave pause at the overlapping broken meows that were becoming easier to hear the closer she got. It was the kittens, she deduced, and from there, she recognized that Lupin must be awake already.

Admittedly, Bish had been preoccupied for a part of the early evening with Alphonse, teaching him Spanish. Later on, when she had gone in search of Lupin, the young woman had been all out of sorts. When she tried to cajole answers from Lupin, the smaller woman had managed to slip away with the excuse of wanting to go to bed. Bish had been discouraged by her friend's avoidance in talking with her, but recognized what she had really been asking for: time and space. She hoped Lupin was all right. She had even tried speaking to Edward afterwards, but he had been oddly scarce. Alphonse had tried to help, but, well even he came up short on answers.

 _What in the hell happened,_ she wondered. Had it been another fight?

Bishquet hoped not. It didn't seem like it on the surface. Lupin would probably have been more outraged if Edward had ignited her ire again, but then again, it could be any number of things.

_I won't know until I talk with her._

The galley was empty when she came upon it. Bubba the monstrous stove was quiet and still and cold. The animals, for the most part, were either snoozing or quietly shuffling in their pens or coops. Strangely enough, the kittens were back inside the coop they had been in the other day. They cried pleadingly with her through the mesh. She reached a finger inside to scratch at their heads. The tawny tabby licked and nibbled playfully at it and she withdrew when it gave a particularly hard bite.

"Ow, you little shit!" She hissed. Her annoyance passed quickly and she sighed.

"Where are you, Loopy?"

She grabbed an apple from the bushel still sitting out and headed toward the stairwell that led outside. The sun was already up, spreading its warmth and light through the thinning fog. It was nothing more than wisps at this point, and already, another lively day was underway. Cotton and Marty were on duty, she noticed, and she gave them a wave.

"Hey, guys. You haven't seen Lupin, have you?"

"Sure have," Marty answered.

"Any port in a storm!" Cotton's parrot screeched, bobbing his head excitedly. Cotton himself nodded as well.

"Yeah, exactly. She went into town. Something about picking up a few things for you and her."

"Oh…oh, right. Our clothes. Wait, did she go with anyone?"

"No. She went alone," Marty continued, with a shrug. "We asked the same thing. She said she'd be fine. She went down below, came back up, signed the log book, then left. Said she'd be back around mid-morning if things went well."'

"Christ, Loopy." Bish mumbled under her breathe. To the other two, she said, "Right, thanks."

The Hispanic woman stalked her way back down below decks. She needed to get her things and more importantly, she needed to figure out what in the hell happened—and she knew it had something to do with Edward.

When she found him, he was just finishing dressing himself and pulling his hair up out of his face.

"What did you say to her last night?"

"What did I say to who?"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me, Edward Elric. Loopy left to go running around town, _alone_. She wouldn't talk to me last night, and you were acting weirder than usual too." She glowered at him, even when he appeared overly mollified in return. Edward slowly finished tying his hair back before he answered, cringing when a few strands managed to catch between the joints of his metal hand.

"I asked her a few questions last night. I got upset, but it wasn't at her directly. It's…complicated."

"Do _not_ give me that bullshit answer. _'It's complicated'_. You know what's complicated? Going home to our time period and having to explain to my best friend's mom why her daughter is dead, and it's not just a why or a how or a where, it's a _when_ ," she replied in a seething hiss. "What did you do to make her upset?"

"…I asked about a weapon."

Bish felt a thrum of surprise rippling through her at his answer. She waited for him to continue and after he let that sink in, he obliged.

"I wanted to know about one thing in history, and…and she told me about World War II. I know what's coming. Bombs dropping on Japan in 1945. Something much worse than what Alphonse and I had been chasing after and it makes me wonder if what we were going after inspired city-destroying bombs." He scoffed dejectedly, his jaw clenching. "Spoilers, right?"

Slowly, Bish felt whatever righteous anger she thought she had a good hold on slipping out of her in lieu of stunned disbelief. It filled her up until it made her uncomfortably numb. In all honesty, she had been expecting something so much worse, and she had been almost hoping for it. It was easier to be angry about.

This was completely unexpected and she wasn't sure how to respond.

Edward stood, a slow-burning fire smouldering in his eyes as he regarded her. "I messed up, so I'll go get her. I was upset, but it wasn't aimed at her. She should know that, at least. It wasn't her fault, it's not like she's the one that dropped those bombs or had them made. She just told me the truth."

"Um…okay?" She blinked at him, before continuing, "Should I come with you? I should, right?"

"No, just…let me fix this. It'll be faster for me to do it. Could you let Alphonse know I'll be out in town for me, though?"

He left without waiting for an answer, and she was left standing beside Ed's cot, staring after him until he left. She stood there for several minutes more, befuddled at what had just happened. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Alphonse came up beside her, breaking the relative silence with a greeting and then a rapid-fire apology.

When she settled, he finally inquired as to where Edward was. For the longest first few seconds, she didn't answer. She was still processing what had transpired minutes ago.

"I think," she finally began, "your brother actually just admitted that he was wrong and went to go fix his fuck up."

"I don't think I follow," Alphonse replied apologetically, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "What do you mean by that?"

Bish hesitated, wondering if she should make the same move Lupin had apparently made: admitting to what was to come in the future for Edward and Alphonse, especially about the Second World War.

_If Ed hasn't told him already, he eventually will._

She motioned for Alphonse to sit. Reluctantly, he did and she sat beside him. "Please understand, my history isn't all that great. I'm not a buff like Lupin can be sometimes. My focus in history is pretty narrow in focus to certain areas and cultures, but I know just enough to get me by."

She sucked in a breath and was grateful that she was talking to Alphonse about this instead of Edward. She could only imagine what it had been like for Lupin when she told the older Elric brother—especially when she considered his temper. Alphonse waited patiently.

"There's going to be another World War," she stated outright. Better to say it quick, get it over with than dragging it out, like ripping off a band-aid. "The first one already sucked. This one's going to suck even more, because of the people who instigated it. And a lot of terrifying crap resulted from that war, especially near the end. I think Lupin told your brother about…about the atomic bombs that were dropped on Japan. The ones that destroyed a few cities."

Understanding instantly flashed inside Alphonse's eyes and worry immediately followed up, welling up inside his gaze. For nearly a minute, he seemed to struggle with his next words, not trusting himself to speak until he had them gathered together the way he wanted them.

"Brother and I…" He swallowed, looking visibly upset as he dropped his gaze. "Are you sure about this information? Is there really a bomb that can destroy cities?"

"It's a part of our history lessons in school, and it's an every day fact of our lives back home. Lots of countries have them now, including ours," Bish replied quietly. "Again, I'm not the history buff for that era. Lupin isn't either, but she's got a bit more about it rattling in her head than I do."

Alphonse nodded, like it was an automatic reaction more than anything.

"I think I understand why my brother got so upset. We were looking into a weapon for the last few years, before we landed here. Not to use for ourselves, but to destroy it, so no one else could use it to hurt anyone. To find this out…" Alphonse shook his head, suddenly clenching a fist, his jaw tightening. "It's more than a bitter blow to him. If there is such a thing in development, then he's probably thinking what's the point in continuing our search when we get back, if something so much worse is on its way."

"He got upset and Lupin thinks he's mad at her, and now she's out somewhere in town on her own," Bish reminded him. "I can understand him being mad, but if he took it out on her—"

"I don't think that's what happened, but we won't know until we talk to them both and figure this out." He stood, and offered a hand to her. She took it, more out of courtesy than in need of help getting up. "We should probably help look. I'll bet he said that he'd do it on his own, but three sets of eyes is better than one. Don't you think?"

"You think I'm just going to sit here and say no? Let's go already. I don't want her to get hurt by some dumb fuck. She's got fight in her, but she's still a tiny fucking Hobbit."

"What's a Hobbit?"

"Oh, Alphonse, you have so much to learn."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Captain Villanueva was as good as his word. When he had sent one of his men to fetch Jack, it was enough for him to set out immediately. Jack once more met with Villanueva at the quaint little shop for women's clothing, on the same floor in the same plain room. Villanueva was pacing along what little floor space there was, his face dark and distant with his thoughts.

When Jack swung through the doorway and into view, the older pirate's attention snapped up almost immediately.

"You," he snarled out.

"Me," Jack agreed, not like the growling inclination in which Villanueva rolled the single word with. He could already tell that something was wrong. He just hoped it didn't end with him getting a punch in the face.

" _Hijo de tu puta madre_! You've brought the Royal Navy down on our heads!"

It clicked almost instantly for Jack, but he feigned ignorance briefly as he regarded Villanueva.

Norrington. It had to be that bloody bastard. Jack had been almost completely certain that hurricane months back would have discouraged the man, or at the very least, sink his ships. Apparently, the sea had not favoured him in the least and luck was not on his side.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean by that. I haven't drawn the attention of your lovely naval officers in the least—"

"Not mine, _pendejo_. _Yours_."

Villanueva all but snarled out the last word, a dangerous light settled in his dark gaze.

"This Commodore Norrington—he's been after you since your infamous escape from Port Royal's gallows. Followed you straight through a hurricane, I hear. He'll follow you to hell and back if it meant putting a rope around your neck."

Jack canted his head to the side, regarding Villanueva with a look that clearly told him he was utterly late on old news. Villanueva growled out another insult under his breath, one Jack didn't quite catch, and exhaled noisily.

"You should leave Cádiz—"

"Eduardo. How long do we have?"

Villanueva pursed his lips and Jack could just make the grimace of his teeth behind his graying whiskers.

"A few days at most. I have a reliable source that spotted British naval vessels making their way here. Chances are they will stop to restock themselves, and have their men scouring the streets and harassing the people for information. The king won't take long in hearing about it, surely, but even a day's worth of being here would shed enough light upon your recent stay to them." Villanueva leveled him with a solemn gaze. "I suggest you leave while you still have the light."

Jack swayed a little on the spot, considering the suggestion. He dipped his head in a sudden nod, bending ever-so-slightly at the waist to further accentuate his agreement and grinned at Villanueva.

"Well, if you say we should leave, then I suppose that's that, isn't it, mate?" His grin broadened. Villanueva looked relieved. Jack bobbed his head again, his baubles and bead jangling as he pivoted towards the door—and then he stopped. Jack raised a hand, pointing at the ceiling with his index finger whilst wagging it. "Although—there is the matter of the request I made of you a few days prior."

Jack inhaled deeply and turned around once more to face his fellow Pirate Lord. Slowly, he tiptoed closer, curling and flexing his fingers and he pointed vaguely in Villanueva's direction, offering an equally vague smile.

"I recall asking for information about Captain Teague. Now, I appreciate the warning of bloody Norrington—I welcome it gladly, in fact—but I am still in need of said information about our good Keeper." He pressed in a little closer to Villanueva's personal space, his grin broadening. "So what say you, eh? Why not just tell me right quick and I'll be on me way."

"Jack—" Villanueva leaned away, his face scrunching together in disgust as he stepped away.

"I'm on a tight schedule, Eduardo, so if you don't mind, I'd rather we cut out the song and dance and get straight to it."

As Villanueva regained space between them, he watched Jack about as sharply, if not more so, as Jack returned the favour. The two men stared one another down for nearly a full minute. The stubborn Spaniard clenched his jaw, looking almost ready to defy Jack.

"Need I remind you about the Code?" Jack finally queried and Villanueva let off another growling curse to roll off his tongue. Jack only smiled in that cloying manner of his, knowing he'd win every time with that argument. The Pirate Lords were, if anything, rather strict in following the Code. Well, most of them, anyways.

"I sent word to find Captain Teague. I informed him to meet you in Tripoli. When he is to arrive, I can't say, but you should hope for your sake it is soon."

Jack considered the information, rolling it around in his head. When he considered it ample enough for the moment, he rolled right into the next subject without missing a beat. "There is another matter. My ship hasn't been resupplied yet. The merchants are dragging their feet."

Villanueva pursed his lips and grit his teeth. "I'll send my men to the local shops to hurry things along. If you are not out by tonight, then be gone by first light tomorrow. By then, I don't care if you have your supplies or not. I want you gone."

"And what about you?"

The older pirate grunted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I suppose I should quit this city. I have family to consider. I don't want my niece and her husband to be hung on my account. I will leave soon." When he smiled, it was thin and only just barely warming up. "It's time I started my retirement. Might as well do it sooner rather than later."

"Well, then. If that's all there is, I wish you all the luck in achieving that." Jack's grin was skin-deep and even Villanueva could see that. He grunted at Jack as he turned toward the door to take his leave.

"And here's to hoping you don't get caught," Villanueva replied, his tone sardonic as he added as an afterthought, "At least try not to get caught so close to here. I'd prefer to not be forced to see your ass hung in my city and your bloated corpse sullying its view."

"Always a pleasure to see you, Captain Villanueva." Jack called glibly over his shoulder as he made his way down the thin winding hallway. Behind him, he heard the older man snort scathingly.

"Can't say the same for you, Sparrow."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_'Go run your errands,' I told myself. 'It'll be easy and fun and helpful,' I told myself._

Two against one. The odds weren't great. They weren't bad. But they weren't great.

_Note to self: don't do this again. Bad Lupin. Bad!_

Herded and cornered into a crooked alleyway was not her idea of a good time, doubly so when she was being spat and shouted at in a language she didn't understand beyond the occasional word smattered here and there. Some were easy and obvious to recognize. Others, not so much.

They were both skinny, starved-looking men of average height. Their cheeks were gaunt and hollow, with the appearance of bruised bags under their eyes. Their clothes were stained and soiled, and they simply hung off the men's frames. Neither of them had shoes and she could see dirt and mud and god-knows-what else crusted on their feet. One of them had a makeshift bandage on one foot, with rust-red-brown stains lining the side of it.

_Hungry, hurt, desperate—and I'm willing to bet they want what I have and more because they see a small, lone woman as an easy target._

It was apparently a classic move that hasn't changed an iota over the centuries. How typical. She was suddenly regretting going alone. Christ, what a mess. Unfortunately for them, she wasn't willing to give up the parcels in her hands. _They can pry it from my cold dead hands, but I'd prefer it to not get to that point, thanks very much._

She shifted her burden to one arm and reached for the knife hidden in the band of her jeans, tucked from sight beneath her shirt and vest. When she drew it, and held it out in front of her, the skinny, starved men took pause, assessing the newly escalated situation.

She shuffled closer. They didn't move. She stopped, frowning, then jerked forward with a wordless shout, thrusting the small blade forward. They scuttled back with wide eyes, looking appropriately spooked and cautious. They muttered softly to one another, their whispers fervent and their tones wavering in confidence. _Yeah, that's right. I got some fight in me. I ain't no easy target. I'm small but I'll cut you up if you try anything. Just let me go on my way, nobody needs to get hurt._

"Get outta my way," she told them. Neither of them offered any indication that they understood her. They were still wary, but they no longer appeared alarmed. They continued to watch her with wide eyes and a desperate, frenzied light flickering in their depths. "I said get out of my way!"

 _I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will if I have to,_ she quietly added. Her grip tightened on both the parcels in the one arm and the knife in her other hand, more to hide the shaking in her hands than anything. The crooked alleyway they were in was not paved in any way and stank of rotting garbage, fresh shit, and stale piss and perhaps a bit of putrefying bodies to top it all off. The dirtied beaten path squished beneath her boots. She didn't even want to think about what she was stepping in, let alone actually know.

Nobody seemed to give them a passing glance. Those that were out on the streets simply went about their business, giving only the most cursory of glances their way. She was on her own, it would seem. How _typical!_

She scuttled closer toward one of the walls of the alleyway, intent on being able to keep an eye on both her would-be assailants without having either of them trying to sneak behind her. She'd rather have her back against a wall.

One of them lumbered to follow, trying to block her path. She charged forward in an attempt to break away into the open, where she'd have a better chance on the street beyond. She almost would have made it, if it weren't for the annoying, snagging fingers that snatched up her upper arm at the very last second. They yanked her back with surprising strength and sent her careening into the corner of the building. Blackness threatened to entirely engulf her vision and stars bloomed shortly after. Her teeth clacked harshly together from the force with which she had hit the wall.

The pain came in belated moments as she found herself dazed on the ground. She snapped to when hands began to roughly paw and tear at her, seeking out the parcels in her one arm, the knife in her other hand. She tightened her grip on both and snarled a wordless yell at both men, bucking the one on her immediate right off as best she could. Both of them were taller than her, and perhaps even heavier too, despite their seemingly emaciated frames.

She felt her head connect with something else and it cracked loudly. She heard one of the men scream in her ear as he went careening away, wailing something in Spanish.

" _Me cevraste la narise!_ "

She was pretty sure she didn't need to know the language to know she was just insulted. She rolled to her feet feeling something trickle down from the corner of her brow, mixing with her sweat and making her wince. She growled low under her breath, her knuckles turning bone white as she gripped the knife tighter than before.

"C'mon, fuckers!" Lupin barked, baring her teeth.

The one she headbutted was still off to the side, whimpering. The other launched himself forward with a yell, knocking her back into the wall. They slammed into it, with her taking the brunt of the blow with her back, her shoulders, her skull. Hands once more began to try and rip away her parcels. Lupin struggled with every ounce of energy she had—kicking, headbutting, trying to slash the knife and even gnash her teeth in an attempt to bite her assailant.

Something slammed into her face twice in rapid succession, sending pain once more blooming all around and threatening to knock her out. She tasted something warm and coppery in her mouth and she spat it right back out. She let out another roar, once more struggling to push past her dazed state to fight back. The hand holding the knife broke free from his grip and she thrust it out blindly, feeling it connect with something and was further encouraged when her assailant screamed in pain and broke away from her.

Lupin's legs threatened to buckle beneath her, the surge of adrenaline from earlier fleeing just as quickly as it had come to her aide. She kept her back pressed to the wall for support, breathing heavily. Her hands shook and her arms trembled.

_Gotta run now. Gotta get out of here now._

She kept telling herself that and yet her legs wouldn't work right. She drew in a ragged deep breath, preparing to flee just as the other two lurched toward her once more.

They stopped almost as quickly, not even having taken two steps in her direction before the gleam of a sword came sailing in between them to intercept. Lupin jerked her head over, her throat going dry and her breath catching in her chest.

"Jack," she wheezed out, relief and surprise battling one another as she stared at the pirate. His kohl-rimmed eyes flickered toward her in brief acknowledgement before returning his attention back to her assailants. They visibly shook under the threat of a sword pointed in their direction. It was certainly a bigger reaction than what they gave her when brandished at with a knife.

" _Es mejor que la dejes en pas por que no te va gustar las consequencias._ "

Lupin felt a trickle of renewed energy seeping into her limbs. She pushed herself away from the building wall when she felt she could trust her legs, scrambling to Jack's side. Her entire head felt like one giant achy throb. Her left eye was half-swollen, her lip felt fat and tender, her nose was tender, and her brow was still pounding. But, at the very least, Lupin could say that she wasn't the only one sporting battle wounds. From Jack's side, she could see the damage dealt to her attackers.

The first one had his nose all bent and bloodied, and it was still bleeding. It dribbled down his chin as he breathed through his mouth. The second had a long laceration across his front, and smaller cuts along his arms. Blood dripped and oozed from each respective wound.

Their earlier bravado had all but fled them as they stared between Jack's sword, Jack, and Lupin. They inched away from the pirate and after a tense minute, they finally turned to flee. The one man with the bandaged foot was limping as he ran. Lupin didn't relax until they were well out of sight. Jack sheathed his sword and pivoted sharply on his heel to face her as he did so.

"You know, it's not much of my business on what you do and don't do—but I would think you'd be smart enough t' not wander about a strange city all by yer lonesome."

Lupin immediately wilted, her gratitude and thanks dying on her lips. He held her gaze steadily, his lips twitching while he considered his next few words. Jack's eyes wandered to the parcels in her arms and she did the same out of impulse. She breathed a soft sigh of relief, seeing that she still had them all, and that for the most part, they weren't damaged. Not as far as she could see.

"I had it handled, didn't I?" She finally replied to Jack. He waved a hand dismissively.

"Of course you did, lass. I never said you didn't. But a word to the wise," he fluttered the same hand at her, while the other motioned for her to start walking. They went back out onto the cobbled street. "Try not to pick fights with the locals, we're trying to remain inconspicuous."

His hand pressed to her back, between her shoulder blades and he abruptly guided her down a crooked, narrower pathway. Lupin caught wind of marching feet and the authoritative shouts of what undoubtedly sounded like orders in Spanish from a street over or so.

"What's going on?"

"What do you think? Locals see a foreigner getting attacked, they go and fetch the local law to sort things out. If they caught you brandishing a knife, chances were, they'd jail all three of you. Wouldn't matter if you were defendin' yerself. They'd see you as a threat, lock you up, and you'd go months afore ever seeing the sun again, an' that's if yer lucky. An' chances are, they'd find out yer connection t' the _Pearl_ an' you'll be swinging with the two thieves from the gallows."

Lupin's mouth went dry at that.

"Oh…"

"Yes. 'Oh'."

They continued traversing the backend street, carefully navigating their way back to the docks with Jack in the lead. He was agitated and impatient, she realized, more so than usual. Before she could ask what was the matter, he stopped them mere feet away from the mouth of another back street, patting the air in front of him as he addressed her, "I will say this, I did catch the end of that fight an' you…you fight all right. Yer sloppy an' you were panicked, but not half-bad."

He turned around and for a brief few seconds, she felt elation swelling inside her at his words, right before he snatched it out from under her as he turned right back around and said, "Ye would've lost all the same though, even I could see that. You weren't desperate enough. Not like they were."

Once again, Jack managed to compliment and insult her, all in one go, but she realized that he was right. Short of stabbing those two men to death, she probably would have lost.

If I had brought a sword with me, would things have been different? Lupin was unsure of that, and she guessed she'd never really know. She certainly didn't want to repeat the experience to find out, either. Her entire face hurt. The back of her head hurt. Just about everything in her body felt strained and tweaked out and above all else, exhausted to the point of running on fumes. She wanted nothing more than to lay down and rest her tired body and mind.

She followed him quietly the rest of the way back to the _Pearl_ , where they miraculously ran into no Spanish officials. Although, Lupin did garner more than enough stares at the state of her face. Most of the crew had returned to the _Pearl_ , and waiting on the docks were crates, barrels, and pallets of supplies. Men were filing up and down the gangplank, retrieving the supplies from the docks and clambering back aboard the _Pearl_ to deliver the payloads with an urgency that continued to tell her that something was off, something was wrong. Jack shooed her away as he stood to watch. Lupin shuffled on heavy feet toward the piles of supplies, stowed her parcels on top, and picked up a crate just the right size for her, filled with bottles of liquid. She spared Jack one last glance and saw a scruffy-looking man approach him before she turned away, the sight of him disappearing as she crossed the ship's deck and down into it.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ—what in the hell happened to you, Loopy?"

Bishquet was appalled at the sight of her friend's condition. She couldn't help but stare in disbelief, her gaze wandering back and forth between the split and swollen lip, the bruised nose, the ugly black eye nearly swelling her friend's bloodshot eye shut and the nasty-looking cut over her adjacent eyebrow. Everything just looked swollen and red and bruised and just really, really angry. She didn't think skin could even turn those ugly shades of colour.

Alphonse made a discontent noise beside her and Edward…

He was dead silent.

When Bishquet flitted her gaze toward him, she saw dismay colouring his otherwise stony countenance.

Lupin, predictably, ignored all this, although Bish saw the glint of anger and embarrassment briefly flickering in her good eye.

"It's nothing. I got jumped by two assholes, but I'm okay."

"'Okay'? _How_ are you okay when you look—when you look like this?! No, this is not **—** this is _far beyond_ 'okay'!" Bish retorted in exasperation, motioning to Lupin's face. Lupin, who appeared to have been busy taking stock of everything in the galley, list and all, sighed and set aside the parchment in her hands. She crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged.

"I've had worse."

"No, you haven't. You fucking haven't."

"Bish—"

"Where did this happen?"

Lupin's gaze slid over to Alphonse and she fell quiet, considering him for only a moment before she answered.

"On one of the streets, not that far from the docks. They dragged me over into a back alley, but I gave them hell."

She tried to smile, but winced and stopped, gingerly touching at her cheek. "Jack stepped in before it got any uglier. But honestly—I'm fine. A little roughed up, but I'm fine."

Bish didn't feel very convinced by her friend. The only thing she could think of was how much worse it could have gotten if Jack hadn't been there, if Lupin hadn't gone on her own in the first place, and so much more. She chided herself, trying to push the poisonous ideas away, but they were persistent. She still felt the tight grip of anxiety crushing her, even though she knew her friend was safe and sound, standing right in front of her.

She only managed to finally shake them away when she stepped forward and snatched up her friend by the arm and began tugging her away from the galley. She needed to do something or it'd threaten to engulf her completely.

"Wha—Bish, what're you—"

"Shut up and come with me. You did a shitty job cleaning yourself up."

The smaller woman's protest died rather quickly and she fell mute. She stopped fighting Bish and came along compliantly, leaving the two Elric brothers behind.

 **OoOoOoOoOoO** '

"I'm sorry I worried you—ow! Damn it woman, be careful!"

"Hmph. Serves you right, going around and picking fights."

"For the record, I did not pick the fight."

"Still serves you right."

Bish half-pouted, half-scowled at her friend as she pressed a cotton ball lightly doused in isopropyl alcohol against Lupin's temple. It came away pink and Lupin bit back another quiet hiss of discomfort.

"You shouldn't have gone off like that. Do you know how worried we've all been? I mean, Ed was the first one off the ship and out on the streets looking for you. Ed, of all people!"

Lupin was appropriately shocked and abashed at that information. She ducked her gaze as her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

"…He was?"

"Damn straight." Bishquet remarked sharply. She took in a breath to calm herself and continued more softly, "What happened between you two? He was acting funny this morning, said you talked to him about…about World War II…he even admitted he might have upset you and went to look for you to fix things, but…"

Lupin was quiet for a long time. She even seemed less reactive to the cleaning and prodding Bish was doing to her face.

"I did tell him about it. About…about the bombs that were dropped on Japan. Said him and Al had been hunting down a uranium bomb, but hearing about something so much worse, he just…he kind of freaked. And I honestly can't blame him." Lupin finally answered her after a while. She lifted her eyes to look around them before meeting Bish's gaze as she whispered very quietly, "I remember that from the movie. The Shamballa one. They were going after some anonymous person who somehow got their hands on the uranium bomb that came from their world."

"Wait, it came from Amestris?"

She could just barely remember the Shamballa film, it's been quite a long time since she's seen it. She groped at the memory but pieces were missing, and the only way to refresh it would be to watch it again. Somehow, thinking of doing that made her feel weirded out. Bish frowned, a little incredulous at Lupin's claims, but she didn't wholeheartedly doubt Lupin. Her friend would know better than her in that instance.

Lupin nodded as she continued. "A uranium bomb made by an alchemist. It crossed over and somehow made it to our world, in their time. And someone found it, someone who might have wanted to use it."

It seemed like such a fruitless endeavor in the long-run. In the end, the Second World War would happen regardless of what the Elric brothers did and even worse weapons would be made and used in the war. A uranium bomb was bad, she wouldn't deny it. Yet, faced off against an atomic bomb? It seemed to pale in comparison when she really thought about it.

"I guess it doesn't matter now," Bish replied gently. "He shouldn't have freaked out on you, and you shouldn't have run off. You're both stupid sometimes, you know that?"

The smaller woman tried to smile, but winced when her lips wouldn't cooperate. Bish clucked her tongue and continued cleaning away the blood still on her friend's face. She put small band-aids on her brow and across the bridge of her nose when she saw there was some split open skin there. The other cuts and bruises would heal, but the one over her right eyebrow, it might just scar. After she finished, Bish decided she had better check Lupin's hand as well, just for good measure.

"Jesus," Bish muttered as she peeled away the layers of clothe bandages away. The stitches were holding, but blood was seeping between the still-healing skin. Carefully, she examined each finger, scrutinizing the abused, tender flesh for any signs of infection or pus or further damage. She was glad to find none and quietly concluded that it was only aggravated. It was healing nicely, but Lupin still had a ways to go before it was all done.

She was gentler this time around as she slathered on some bacitracin from one of their first aid kits and rebandaged Lupin's hand carefully. Lupin gently flexed her fingers, looking appreciatively between Bish and her hand.

"Thanks, hun. And I really am sorry for running off like that and for scaring you. I just thought I could be in and out, be back before anyone noticed."

"Next time, I don't care if you're feeling weird about talking or not—just come and get me, or even Al, especially if Ed's pissed you off or whatever. Someone. Anyone. Please promise me that?"

Lupin sighed, smiled and nodded. "Okay, I promise."

Bish shared a smile of relief with her, although their quiet moment of peace was interrupted as Edward came trotting over between the hammocks and cots toward them, worry coating his face.

"We're leaving soon. Possibly by sunset. You might want to start prepping for that."

"Wait, what? Why?"

"Yeah, I was under the impression that we had at least another few days here." Lupin added.

Edward shook his head just as Alphonse came to join them, patting his brother's shoulder.

"They need us up top. We've got to help finish prepping the _Pearl_."

"Hold on—why are we leaving ahead of schedule?" Lupin pressed as she pushed herself to her feet. Bish joined her, fixating her gaze on both the Elric brothers. Edward scowled, looking displeased at being the bearer of bad news.

"Jack wouldn't say. He just hauled the rest of the crew in with Gibbs, and now everyone's loading up the last of the supplies. Jack said he wanted us out of Cádiz as soon as possible."

Lupin exchanged a worried glance with Bish.

"Any ideas?"

"Could be any number of things. Maybe the Spanish Royal Navy is on to us?"

"If that were true, we'd already be in their custody," Alphonse suggested. Lupin shrugged.

"I dunno then, but you guys had better get back up top before you get into trouble."

They nodded, looking ready to turn away, but stopped just as suddenly when Lupin flagged Edward's attention. He paused, glanced at Alphonse and said, "I'll be there in a minute. You go on ahead, Al."

Alphonse nodded in return and went on ahead. Bish shifted her gaze between the two before taking it as her cue to let them be, to work out their problems alone. She didn't need to be a third wheel or a mediator for this; Lupin—stubborn, pigheaded, and occasional champion holder of the idiot ball—was still a grown-ass woman. There were times to support her friend right at her side, and other times from afar.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translations:**
> 
> **Hijo de tu puta madre!—"You son of a bitch!"**
> 
> **Pendejo—"Asshole/jerk." (Sometimes taken in the context of teasing, but it can also be used as a legitimate insult.)**
> 
> **Me cevraste la narise!—"You bitch, you broke my nose!"**
> 
> **Es mejor que la dejes en pas por que no te va gustar las consequencias— "I suggest you leave the girl alone, or you'll not like the consequences."**
> 
> **Additional Notes: Once again, thank you to my lovely and wonderfully beautiful beta, Bishquet, for the Spanish translations! I'm so very white; I only recognize a little bit of Spanish and (un)surprisingly it's the most generically recognizable curse words.**
> 
> **Also, I have this headcanon that Jack—being the deceivingly well-read and educated man that he is, despite his seemingly stupid man first-impressions with people—knows enough of quite a number of languages to communicate and keep himself out of trouble. Or even get himself into it! Because he's Captain Jack Sparrow, he wouldn't be him if he wasn't getting into some kind of trouble.**


	13. Under Construction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Notes: Criminy, I need to step up my game and get this story finished. Including the rewrite. D’oh.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_“I have a plan.”_ **  
**_“_ You've _got a plan?”_ **  
**_“Yes.”_ **  
**_“First of all, you're copying me from when I said I had a plan.”_ **  
**_“No, I'm not! People say that all the time, it's not that unique of a thing to say.”_ **  
**_“Secondly, I don't even believe you have a plan.”_ **  
**_“I have..._ part _of a plan!”_  
**-Peter “Starlord” Quill and Rocket Raccoon, “ _Guardians of the Galaxy_ ”** ****  
  
OoOoOoOoOoO

There was an electric, jittery energy building up, bubbling beneath the surface of everyone on the _Black Pearl_. It was as though they were once more isolated from the rest of the world, even docked at a rather busy port city such as _Cádiz._ It didn’t help matters much with the tension riding alongside that nervous energy, jumping from one person to the next until everyone was drowning in it, unable to shake it off. It was infectious.

Mister Gibbs did all he could to alleviate the stress, but there was only so much one man could do. He trusted Jack about as far as he could throw the man, but he had to admit with equal parts admiration as he did grudgingly that as unpredictable as Jack was, he had ways of knowing things and them working in his favour, one way or another. How or where Jack found out about Norrington’s apparent survival of the last hurricane they had endured and his inevitable approach was beyond him, but this was not a trifling matter to brush away.

 _That man is going to be the death of us,_ Mister Gibbs thought bitterly. _Not unless we do something drastic to throw him off our scent._

He hoped Jack had a plan, mostly because he usually seemed to.

The remaining few hours left in _Cádiz_ slowed to a crawl and sped to a hurried rush all at once. Men and women blurred back and forth, up and down the gangplank, disappearing and reappearing from the bowels of the Pearl’s innards. He directed them where they needed to go, based on Jack’s orders, but there was so much to do, too much in fact, in such a short amount of time. Mister Gibbs could not see them leaving in the impossible time frame Jack had set before them. There was too much to load up on the Pearl. Every time he thought they had finished, the next batch of merchants were pulling up in their carts, hauling whatever other supplies they were in dire need of.

He simply hoped that if, they were not completed come this evening, then at the very least, they would be ready to set sail not long after dark. If they waited for dawn next morn, he feared Norrington and his flotilla would be upon them with muskets aimed, swords drawn, and cannons ready to fire—Spanish harbour or no.

Mister Gibbs felt a shudder wrack him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes at that thought, and it triggered a rapid-response of unpleasant memories to surface.

He remembered the day he had been shanghaied into joining His Majesty’s Royal Navy by a press gang. He had been living in London at the time, along the Thames down in Wapping—a dreary little neighborhood on the riverfront squeezed between the naval shipyards and London Bridge. It lacked many of the finer things in life, but it certainly hadn’t much of a shortage on warehouses, lumber yards, wharfs, alehouses, brothels, and many a crooked narrow street to wind through between them all.

Life was difficult in one of the poorest district in London—it was where everyone who couldn’t afford proper living eventually trickled down into. The homes were dirty, cold, dangerously unsteady. Mister Gibbs recalled a point in his life where he had to share a cramped, creaky room with about twenty other people all squeezed inside. It had been especially harsh during the freezing winter months, where one could see their breath steaming with every exhalation. So many—too many, in fact—had died from being sick for too long.

There were plenty of honest jobs down in Wapping, however—pub owners, merchants, sailors, dock workers, brothel owners, sailmakers, and so many more. Gibbs himself had been a dock worker in some of the local warehouses. It had been honest work, and looking back on it, more so than any work he’s done out on sea, yet he could never see himself getting back to it. He simply wished he hadn’t been forced into His Majesty’s Royal Navy the way he had; bloodied and beaten and dragged through the streets by the press gang.

The press gangs came for nearly anyone they could, but sailors and their related work-kin had been especially ripe prey. He had heard one too many a tale from his fellows about how they had been hunted like dogs by the press gangs, even if they fled from city to city in terror from them. Sailors have had their homes broken into, beaten unconscious and dragged out to the warships to serve. The press gangs would even raid honest merchant ships, spiriting away the men before they had even been paid, let alone stepped foot on land.

When sailors were in short supply, the packs would doggedly turn to those of other walks of life—potters, cobblers, tailors and other tradesmen who haven’t sailed a day in their lives. They often enough never returned home, too inexperienced to survive for long upon the ships they had been forced to serve upon.

Mister Gibbs hadn’t been one of the lucky few who avoided the abuse of being dragged down the streets as he’s seen others have done to them. He had been one of those men, rather than one of those who had been struck blind by the promise of good pay, serving his country and his King, of adventure on the high seas. All the falsities and empty promises that younger men than he had been lured in with, only to have their naivety and daydreams stripped away to the bone, and replaced with the cold, hard truth. The dangers, the risks, the environmental exposures, the abuse—physical, mental, and more—and above all, the absolute lack of pay.

Oh, that had been one of the top worst things he remembered enduring.

There were times when Mister Gibbs and his fellow sailors hadn’t even gotten paid, despite the false guarantees made by their superiors. Other times, they were told in brutal coldness that they wouldn’t see even a shilling after months or even a year’s worth of grueling over the laborious and deadly work on the ships they served.

It wasn’t much of a wonder why he had turned to the drink as the years went by, filching and sneaking it wherever he could. It helped him forget the world he had been subjugated to. Yet, he still did his job with pride. He had climbed the ranks, as arduous a task it was, until one day, poof. He was no longer in the employ of His Majesty’s Royal Navy. Now, he was a pirate. He figured it was better to become what one feared rather to live and die wallowing in that fear.

Mister Gibbs shook the thoughts from his head, returning his attentions back to overseeing the deliveries of all the supplies for the Black Pearl. That chapter of his life was over, although at this point, he would highly prefer not to end this current chapter so suddenly at the expense of a short drop and a sudden stop.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“This is insane. We’re expected to pack everything down and be ready by sunrise? We won’t see a wink of sleep if we keep going at this rate.”

Edward listened quietly as the others grumbled their agreements of discontent. The sun had long since set, the deliveries completed, and the storage of supplies underway. Mister Gibbs was often roaming below decks or above, barking out orders straight from Jack himself. Something had Jack spooked, that much Edward could tell right off the bat. It wasn’t something he could readily or easily ignore. Especially when he had overheard Mister Gibbs mentioning something about the navy.

_Is it the Spanish Navy? Or is it someone else’s?_

Whatever the implications truly were, it didn’t bode well. If it was the navy, whomever it may belong to, that was actively chasing Jack across the world, it would end badly for all of them when they caught up. Not if.

 _We can’t stay here,_ he told himself as he lifted a barrel of what he suspected was pickled eggs and hauling it over to the galley where Lupin was working. _But where else could we go_ , he wondered. He wanted to believe and trust in Lupin and Bish’s faith in the friend Jack had told them about, this Tia Dalma, whoever she was. Skepticism, however, kept his optimistic outlook at bay. He wanted to keep his hopes at a minimum until he saw something happen himself. Edward and Alphonse alike had spent too many years allowing it to run unchecked, only to be cut down, time and again. They chased old rumours and new ones alike, chasing old tales and local tales about anything that alluded to the Philospher’s Stone.

Perhaps his years of chasing dead ends until the very end of all the pain and suffering, to find out that what he and his brother had been dreaming about for years prior has taken a toll on his optimism.

As Edward approached the galley, he noticed Lupin was so busy working, she didn’t notice him at all. She didn’t even glance his way when he dropped it close by and stopped to watch her flit from here to there, carrying her checklist and quill as she went. She soon disappeared into the food storage locker with a crate of apples. He jumped and sprang forward when he heard her shout out a curse that was followed up with a heavy thud.

“Motherfucking cocksucking sonuvabitch!”

He found her clutching at her bandaged hand, hissing and muttering away a few more curses through gritted teeth. She startled when he approached, her good hand curling into a fist. She managed to hold off from hitting him, but she still looked incredibly jittery, ready to lash out at any given moment.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ed. Make a little noise next time, huh?” She laughed weakly, trying and failing to smile. Everything about her face just looked bruised, swollen and painful. Her black eye alone looked worse than it had hours before, darker and shinier. It’d be weeks before it began to go away.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought maybe you heard me earlier,” he admitted. She shook her head, turning away to pick up the apples she’d dropped, turning the crate over to deposit them in it.

“No. Sorry, I didn’t,” she admitted with a heavy exhalation. “I’m just trying to get all this categorized before we head out.”

“Do you need any help with that? It might go by faster,” Edward offered with a placating smile. She paused, glancing his way. Lupin held his gaze for only a moment before breaking contact, her pace picking up as she snatched up apple after apple, dumping them into the crate.

“No. I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure—”

“I’m fine, Ed. I’m good. I just…need to get this done.”

He frowned at her impatiently brusque and snappish tone.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Why would there be anything wrong?”

“I’m worried about you.”

That made her stop again, her good hand hovering over an apple as she passed off a legitimately bemused look. “Why would you be worried about me?”

“It’s just…you were attacked earlier today and I feel as though that it’s partly my fault. If I hadn’t reacted the way I had last night, when all you did was tell me the truth about what was to come for me and Al back in our time…maybe you wouldn’t have gone off all alone this morning.” He said and he waited for that to sink in. He continued when she didn’t respond. “I know I apologized earlier, but I feel as though you’re still mad at me.”

“It’s not you. Okay, it’s just…I just need some time alone.” She diverted her gaze away, her tone softening as she picked up another apple, her movements slower, more deliberate. Edward wanted to beg to differ, that the last thing she needed was time alone. Looking at her current state, leaving her alone wasn’t exactly the best thing to do. She continued talking, her head turned from him as she spoke. “I know it must not have been easy to hear what I had to say last night. It probably freaked you out pretty badly and…I can’t blame you for how you reacted. I want to be mad, but I’m not. It’s not you, okay? I promise. Please, I only want to get this done right now, so…”

Lupin trailed off, and he gathered her intent well enough, but he wasn’t satisfied with her answer. Arguing with or pressing her for more, however, wasn’t going to work. It’d only clam her up even more, and she was damned stubborn when she wanted be, Edward’s come to learn. It would be admirable, if it weren’t so annoying and he being the recipient of that stubbornness so often.

Sighing, he nodded his assent at her request, holding his hands up in surrender. “All right. Fine. I’ll let you get back to work. But this isn’t over, because I really don’t believe that you’re fine at all.”

He left her with that said, ducking out of the food storage locker to get back to work himself.

Lupin still sat hunched over on the ground, staring at her hands as they shook and trembled, her throat dry and pinched together tightly. She gulped down a few steady breathes as she counted to ten slowly, quietly. She switched over halfway through her countdown, telling herself that she was all right and that things would be fine.

After a few minutes, she managed to convince herself enough to get back to work. She was back on the _Pearl_. She was a little roughed up, lost a little blood, had a little swelling in her face going on—but overall, she was safe.

Lupin almost believed that by the time she got back out to finish accounting for everything in the galley.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

They didn’t leave right at sunset.

Too much was still going on for them to leave when Jack had originally wanted, so the deadline had been extended to some time after dark. Supplies were still being loaded up, locked down, and accounted for. It wasn’t until shortly after the sun had left the sky and taken all its warmth and light did the _Black Pearl_ silently flee from the harbour that had given them safety for a short time. Into the darkness she went, carving a path through the still waters without anyone else the wiser. Her black sails and scorched hide once more hid them from sight. Jack was still all aflutter with an anxious energy surrounding him, and once again the entire crew was soon infected with it as well. It wasn’t long after when they finally cleared out of _Cádiz_ that the men were whispering away to one another.

Why had their shore leave been cut down so drastically, so suddenly? What was the rush? Mister Gibbs, what was really going on? Captain, why did we leave ahead of schedule?

No one was getting anywhere with their line of questioning. It soured their moods quickly.

In the days that followed their abrupt departure, the Pearl passed by the Rock of Gibraltar—the narrow passage between Europe and Africa that led into the Mediterranean Sea—and hurried along past islets and islands, hugging the coast of Africa.

Dissenting conversations took place in the bowels of the Pearl, well away from Mister Gibbs’ ears. They complained about their days being cut short enjoying their time on land—drinking and eating and fucking to their hearts’ content. They bemoaned the lack of information. But most of all, they spat out their discontent about the lack of proper pirating in the last several months, starting right after Jack’s rescue from Port Royal and recruitment in Tortuga.

In those passing days, they even spat out their vitriol where Bish or Lupin could hear them—but Lupin realized Jack had been right all those weeks ago: They didn’t care a wit that either of the women overheard. They were overlooked and ignored completely. Lupin found herself writing down most of what she heard herself and recorded what Bish told her as well.

After a week had passed since their exodus from Cádiz, she took all that she had learned to Jack in the evening alongside his meal. He eyed her with renewed interest glittering in his dark gaze when she told him she had information for him. Jack’s lips twitched as he set aside his navigation instruments and he smoothed out his charts in passing. Lupin sat his food on the table, but he barely noticed it for the time being. He was waiting for her to continue, his attention sharply rested solely on her.

She took her time, mostly in an attempt to gather her words together rather than out of keeping him in suspense. Lupin took the parchment she’d been writing notes on, unfolding it carefully—satisfied that her ink hadn’t smudged in the least. She slid it over across the table to Jack and he snatched it up with the fingertips of his thumb and index with a delicacy, as though he was handling fine china.

He read through all that she had written, mouthing each word in silence as he did, eyes darting back and forth as he went down the list. Jack did this again, and then once more for good measure before dropping the parchment down on the table, a smile flicking onto his face.

“What did I tell you, eh? They wouldn’t take notice of you at all and look at how much you’ve learned. I’ll bet you that they ‘aven’t even the foggiest you were listening in on them.”

Jack tapped the parchment rapidly with his fingertips, leaning back in his seat.

“I ‘ave t’ say, I was expecting some disagreement from me men, but not at this level,” he said, giving pause and then adding, “This is all of them, then?”

She nodded. “Leech seems to be the biggest agitator. If anything, I’d expect him to lead any kind of rebellion.” Lupin hesitated. “Maybe reassuring them on a few points they’re complaining about might relieve some of the tension they have against you.”

Jack canted his head over to one side, tilting his chin back as he gazed at her. Lupin shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

“I suppose it is a valid consideration I should take. It’s what Mister Gibbs would suggest. I can already ‘ear him saying it ‘imself, almost word fer word.”

Lupin felt a shift in the atmosphere, and she felt as though she could breathe again as relief swelled inside her chest. She was startled when he stood suddenly shortly after, swinging around his desk with a wide sashay of his hips. Every bead and bauble tied or braided in on his person clinked and jangled as he moved in time with the sway of the Pearl. She froze when he stopped just short of bowling her over, gingerly snatching her face up in that fingertip-grip of his, tilting her face this way and that as he stared down at her.

A chill ran up and down her spine at the invasion of her face, speechless at first as he continued to exam her facial injuries: from the fat and swollen lip; the tender and bruised cheek and nose; the covered laceration on her brow; the shiny black eye.

“Those uncouth gentlemen have done quite a number on you. They most likely would have done more and worse had I not intervened, but as I mentioned before, I caught the last bit of yer tussle. While ye might’ve lost in the end…ye did put up a fight.”

He ‘hmmmed’ for a moment, turning her face this way and that. She was too busy holding her breath and trying not to resist to really think about scuttling away. Along her spine and down her arms, her flesh pimpled with goosebumps while her heart hitched faster in speed as he continued with his plain-faced observations.

“Perhaps, if you are so hellbent on continuing to be a little hellion on board my vessel, we should invest in giving you an’ yer lovely friend some lessons in using a sword and pistol. It will not do if all ye both did in a fight were to either hide or get yerselves killed. An’ that alone would be a shame. Really, it would. I might find meself choking up a bit if that were to happen.”

Lupin couldn’t help but snort, trying and failing to conceal the sudden outburst of a grin from her face. He chuckled softly, the glow of the lantern light glinting off the gold teeth in his mouth.

“There we are, why so serious? Relax. I’m not about to bite. Not without permission, that is.”

She shot him a narrow-eyed sour look, to which he waved a dismissive hand at. Still grinning, he released her face and stepped off, wobbling as he slinked back over to his seat. Tension drained from her frame as he did, yet she wasn’t completely relaxed yet.

Jack scooped up her list again, scanning over it another time.

“If you would be so kind, on yer way out, to locate and fetch Mister Gibbs for me, I would be ever so grateful. I have much to discuss with ‘im and the sooner I get that done, the better.”

His tone didn’t sound pleading so much as it did insistent and slightly demanding. He certainly had the bark of a captain that was overlooked in the films, she realized. She always suspected, and knew deep down, that Jack Sparrow was a man to never trifle with. He was smarter than just about anyone in any room, with a hidden ruthlessness to contend with. She was only just beginning to realize that he was most likely going to have to work out a plan to alleviate any further thoughts of mutiny.

He’s already suffered from one, and a humiliating one at that at the hands of Barbossa. He spent ten years getting the _Black Pearl_ back, planning out his revenge and saving his one shot that Barbossa himself had given him. Ten years of planning, learning, waiting, watching that made him damn near unstoppable once he had his sights set and his momentum going at full speed. She wondered just what he had planned with only a few months’ worth of information.

Lupin bobbed her head in a nod to Jack, murmuring quietly that she’d do just that, turning to leave. She stopped when he called to her once more and she paused, glancing at Jack over her shoulder.

“It gets better, luv. The shaking in yer hands, that tight feeling in yer chest like ye can’t breathe, that momentary panic of terror grippin’ ya—the nightmares, if yer havin’ any. It gets better over time. Tends to turn dull as it goes on.” He gave her a winsome, gold-flecked grin and reached for a full bottle of rum on his desk, raising it to her in a salute. “Try some rum next time. Might help a bit more than ye think.”

She stared at him, mostly in shock. She hadn’t told anyone how shook up she had really been. Lupin hadn’t wanted to worry anyone anymore about it, she just wanted it to go away, because she knew that she was safe aboard the Black Pearl, that nothing was going to get her. Yet that irrational fear kept prying right back into her mind, making her jumpier than usual. She had been leaping at shadows and the sounds of scuffling feet or coughs or shouts. It _embarrassed_ her to no end.

The only thing she found she could do was nod again in acknowledgment, turned back toward the doors and left.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Jack watched as the lean little woman took her leave with barely a nod to him and he sat back in his seat, frowning. That was it? Just a nod? No fawning of thanks or gratitude? Jack considered the lack of propriety for only a moment before chalking it up to her shock. It had all been in her handwriting. The shaking way each of her letters were written now in comparison to her last compilations were stark in difference. He knew the feeling all too well, and her quiet indifference to the world around her had been all the more damning in evidence.

He knew she would bounce back, however. He saw a strength in her, the same as any man that has served before the mast in the past. What she lacked in the mere physical strengths many a man possessed, she more than made it up in wit and stubbornness and an intellect that craved stimulation. In a way, he was reminded of himself when he was younger. Both her and her friend, in fact, were a fiery duo to contend with, either apart or together.

Jack’s thoughts were skewered through at the sound of Mister Gibbs barging in with a huff and puff, looking ruddy-faced.

“You sent fer me, Cap’n?”

“Ah, Mister Gibbs. Yes, of course. Come in.” Jack made a vague motion to an empty chair with the hand still clutching the rum bottle. He took some painstaking measures to pour it into a cup just as Gibbs sat down, his eyes bright with an expectant light as Jack sat the bottle down. Gibbs reached for the cup a moment too late; Jack snatched it up and drained the contents in one gulp, ignoring the crestfallen expression on the other man’s face.

“So,” Jack began as Gibbs sobered his attention to him, and Jack clunked the cup back onto the table. “I have news.”

“Hopefully good news,” Gibbs offered.

“Hmm. Depends on how one would look at it.” Jack said, allowing a beat to pass between the two of them before he produced the list Lupin had delivered with his evening meal. Mister Gibbs’ eyes lingered on the parchment, then swiftly lifted to meet Jack’s gaze. Jack fluttered his fingers as he lifted his hand, motioning to the older man to take it. Gibbs did so, hastily going over all that was written before he glanced up at Jack once more.

“Who gave this to you? I haven’t even heard any of this being spoken.”

“Doesn’t matter. My source is sound. This is what’s bein’ said away from even yer ears, because the men don’t trust you enough to bring forth the issues to my attention.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Isn’t it?” Jack agreed, leveling his old friend a knowing look. Gibbs let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Is it one of the new lads? One of them Elric brothers?”

“Mister Gibbs, I would prefer not to point names and list fingers.”

“It’s one of the girls, isn’t it?”

Jack said nothing, carefully pulling the list back toward him. Gibbs let off an annoyed sound at the back of his throat. “Damn it all, Jack! Yer going to get one or both of them killed for this. These men aren’t exactly the gentle and kind type of men you find in proper society.”

“And these ladies are no more the gentle and kind women you find in polite society. I’m sure they’ve made the men blush more than once with the language that comes out their mouths.”

“Jack—in case you haven’t noticed, that Lupin lass’s face is so beaten, her own mother is like to not recognize her!”

“I realize, but wounds can heal, given the right amount of time. She gave her attackers hell, no worries on that front.” Jack waved away whatever question Gibbs had lined on his lips at that, and poked rather pointedly at the parchment now back in his possession. “We’re gettin’ off topic, mate. I need you to flush away all this…insipid talk of dissentin’ attitudes and whatnot. I’ll not have it aboard me ship.”

“And how would you suggest that? We haven’t done any proper piratin’ in months, not since we’ve gained the _Pearl_ back. Our raid on Isla de Muerta turned sour once we found it completely missin’—an entire island, gone!”

Jack mocked thinking for a moment, a hand tucked under his chin before he snapped his fingers. “How about we do some proper piratin’ then, eh? What say you?”

Mister Gibbs looked appropriate relieved as he did suspicious.

“We have a good month afore we hit Tripoli. It’s a big port city. Lots of trading going in and out. I’m more’n sure we can hit a few small ships, satisfy the men for a time, ease their worries.”

“Tripoli?” Gibbs repeated back, eyes narrowing. “What’s in Tripoli?”

“Besides all the goods a weaslin’ black gutted pirate such as ourselves can plunder?”

“Yes, _besides_ all that,” Gibbs replied with a faint roll of his eyes. Damn. Sometimes, the older gent was much sharper on his wits than Jack would like. And that was exactly why he liked him, at the same time. Jack leaned back in his seat, snatching up his bottle of rum, and foregoing the cup from earlier altogether, took a long swig from it. Mister Gibbs watched with an envious look in his eyes.

“I have a contact I’m in need of gettin’ in touch with. I had Captain Villanueva send out a message, as I heard here ‘n there, that he’s seen this particular contact in recent months.”

Mister Gibbs’ eyes immediately widened, his thoughts no longer preoccupied with the envy of rum. “Captain Villanueva? The Pirate Lord of the Adriatic?”

“The one n’ the same, mate.”

“Who did you have him contact, Jack?”

“That will remain mum for the time being, Mister Gibbs.” Jack retorted, his tone insinuating that _that_ was the end of the conversation for that particular matter. Mister Gibbs grudgingly conceded, although he did have a spark of defiance shimmering in his dark eyes. He sighed.

“All right, fair enough. I s’pose I’ll find out soon enough, once we hit Tripoli, aye?”

“Perhaps,” Jack canted his head in a noncommittal nod. “Oh, and one more thing…”

“What’s that?”

“I’d like to give those girls some lessons. Utilizing weaponry aboard the ship, swordplay, sharpshooting. Things like that.”

Gibbs peered over at Jack, looking doubtfully at his captain.

“Sir, do you…do you that’s proper fer the young ladies?”

“If they signed on me ship, Mister Gibbs, then I would be the first to enthusiastically state that yes, it is.”

“But do you think they can do it?”

“Many hands can make the one job go that much quicker. Some jobs are meant fer one person, and others require many more than just the one. Start scheduling their lessons as soon as yer able, aye?”

“Of course. I…yes, of course.”

Jack grinned that gold-flecked grin of his again.

“Good. Now, if you’d be so kind as to take this matter under yer advisement from here on out.”

He slid the parchment back over to Gibbs, who took it gingerly into his grasp.

Jack watched with a faint little grin playing at his lips before he offered the bottle of rum to Mister Gibbs. The older pirate paused, staring, then snatched it up eagerly, only to find it empty when he raised it to his lips. He offered another long-suffering gaze to his captain. Jack’s grin only grew wider.

“Mind bringing about another bottle, mate?”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Notes: One, Wapping was once and still a real place in London along the River Thames. Two, life for sailors in the eighteenth century wasn’t pretty. There really were press gangs that forced men into serving in the Royal Navy—they would literally break into people’s homes or steal them right off the streets and force them into servitude with the Royal Navy. In short, they were abducted and many didn’t get paid for all the work they did or the danger they endured. Indeed, they weren’t even compensated for injuries or losses of limbs, appendages, or even eyes.**
> 
> **Piracy was often a more enticing choice of lifestyle because of the freedom and democratic style of living available to them. There were plenty of sailors who jumped ship to go join a pirate ship, so to speak. At the very least, most pirate captains even gave options to crewmen of captured vessels to stay with their own ship or to join the pirates. Pirates even had better healthcare compensation in place than the Navy. Imagine that.**
> 
> **I hope you guys appreciate all these fun tidbits! I certainly enjoy learning more and more about the lifestyles these guys had to endure back in the day. :D**


	14. Crooked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Notes: [19 June 2017] Hope nobody minds the skimmed over history lessons I sprinkle throughout the story (something the original chapters lacked in a severe sense). While it does skim through to the point of being background noise, it’s just that: it’s to set a scene, in a sense. It kind of gives you an idea of a historical background—but since the Pirates ‘Verse is a bit of a historical anachronism fantasy kitchen stew, it tends to skew things. I’ll probably throw things in accordingly—so if anyone likes fact-checking, and happens to notice inconsistencies…just keep that in mind. :P**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_I heard you tellin’ lies_  
I heard you say you weren’t born of our blood  
I know we’re the crooked kind  
But you’re crooked too, boy, and it shows  
  
Some get dealt simple hands  
Some walk the common paths, all nice and worn  
But all folks are damaged goods  
It ain’t a talk of “if”, just one of “when” and how”  
  
So collect your scars and wear ‘em well  
Your blood’s as good an ink as any  
Go scratch your name into the clouds  
And pull ‘em all…down  
**-“ _The Crooked Kind_ ” by Radical Face**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The booming port city of Cádiz loomed before them. Norrington felt a tension charged up all around him, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, but he maintained his composure as his lips pulled into a thin sneer. He had sent his men ashore to gain permission to dock in the harbor, and that had been hours prior. With him at the head of a small flotilla of armed ships, it was only proper to send a party ahead to ensure that they were not there to fire upon the good citizens of a foreign nationality.

He felt some discomfort, being so close to a country that, for a good many years before, had served as an enemy of England. His father had fought against Spaniards in the War of the Spanish Succession, as it was so called. King Charles II of Spain had been declining in health long before Norrington had even been conceived, and when the dying king had finally chosen a successor for his vast yet equally declining empire, it had more than simply ruffled a few feathers across the nations. Assigning the territories originally established by the Spanish empire to the monarchy’s enemies would have transferred gratuitous amounts to either the French or Austrian empires respectively, and it certainly didn’t sit well with the rest of the European nations. It was a threat, and rightfully so: a hegemonic ruling would have been a terrifying thought to endure.

His father, who had been a successful man in his own right in the Navy, gallantly took to the sea to bring the war half a world away over in the West Indies and into the heart of the Spanish Main. The campaigns had been aided by legal buccaneers at the time—glorified pirates given Letters of Marques signed by the King of England himself to legitimize their actions and denounce them of any wrongdoings.

Thirteen bloody years of on and off warfare on the waters, of thundering cannons, the taste of gunpowder in the air, of surviving storms and bullets and cannon fire and swords.

It was an inspiration, yet it also brought forth bittersweet memories of his father, of the sea, of sailing…of pirates. Norrington swallowed back down the taste of that sourness, as though he could simply will it out of existence. His eyes caught sight of a longboat with familiar uniforms making their way across the bay to his flotilla. His men were returning.

When they finally made it to his ship and boarded, they brought a twofold series of news: the good of it was that they were granted permission to dock, resupply, trade as they needed. The bad of it was that they were given a limit of only a few days in which to do so before they were required to cast off and be on their way.

No matter, Norrington thought as he gave his men a stiff nod and a set of marching orders. We will only need a few days’ time. If Sparrow were to make port anywhere, then this would be a good place to start looking.

He felt his blood singing with anticipation, even if he hid it well. He was close, this he knew. So close, in fact, that he could practically smell that disgusting aroma that pirate called his breath. And, quite honestly, Norrington would sleep better at night knowing that it and its originator were both put to rest for good. Preferably over the River Thames, if not Port Royal itself. At least the River Thames would mask the smell of Sparrow’s rotting body.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The _Pearl_ continued on her journey as she sluiced through the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean without much interference. Even the winds seemed to be giving the galleon an extra nudge, a helpful push with their journey. The ship almost seemed to be racing, pressing on through the small, almost inconsequential waves that bumped along against the _Pearl_ ’s hull. There was a faint haze off in the distance to the starboard side, a fuzzy line darker than the waters in the distance, although most of the crew was unconcerned. Mister Gibbs eventually stated that it was the distant shoreline of North Africa, and more specifically, Morocco that they were passing.

“Strange place, I hear,” he said as way of passing conversation. “Never been m’self, but I’ve heard a number of odd tales that came from there.”

It had been a few days since they had left the sheltered port of Cádiz, yet there was still a collective tension amongst the crew, and while he tried to hide it, Jack was jittery too. Well, more jittery than usual, that was. He kept a near-constant vigil on their heading and was out and about more often. He hovered by the helm, and whoever was manning it, or he’d simply take over himself. He constantly checked his compass, muttering softly as he would lift his head to scan the horizon.

It wasn’t a mystery where their next heading was going to be; Jack had not bothered to keep that a secret. Tripoli was their destination. But what was in Tripoli, not even Mr. Gibbs knew that.

Jack was certainly mum on the word and in turn, it made for a hotly debated topic. Some said it was for the goods that lay in the vast trading market. Others argued what good would that be, if they had no goods to trade.

“We’re _pirates_! What good are we if we don’t pillage and plunder and take what we want?”

That alone earned plenty of guffaws and slaps on the backs, as though their entire arguments were just jokes and they really had it all figured out. Yet, there was always a hint of dissent coating their words, somewhat subtle, but not really. It was hard not to hear it, especially when the crew often broached the subject in front of Lupin or Bish. The theories didn’t end with the crew, however. It continued on in the galley, where back and forth went on with Bish and Lupin and the Elric brothers.

“So do you have any ideas? Has Jack said anything to you? Hinted at anything?” Edward pressed in a curious yet adamant tone. It wasn’t the first time he’s asked, but it was the most persistent tone he’s taken with her.

“Why would he say anything to me?”

“You take his food to him at every meal, for one. You’re one of the few people allowed inside his cabin at just about any time of the day. I mean, he must have said something.”

Lupin sighed, trying to rein in the urge to snap and instead replied with a snort, “Who would he be talking to? Himself?”

“Doesn’t he do that already?”

Bish laughed at that, and Alphonse chuckled under his breath.

“…I will give you half of that,” Lupin admitted with a faint smirk before it faded just as quickly. “And no. I’ve heard nothing, I’ve seen nothing, and I’m also saying nothing.”

“Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil. Poetic.” Bish piped up, before tapping her friend on the shoulder and offering a shaker. “You were asking for this earlier. Pepper.”

“Ah, thanks, hun.” The smaller woman added a bit of the spice, stirred, then turned to Bish, a different spoon in hand. “Here, taste test.”

“Mmm. I feel privileged, and this is making me miss my mama’s food. Not as good, but you’re getting there.”

“I know. I miss your mama’s cooking too, and mines as well.”

“Oh, yeah, your mom makes some pretty good food, too. Love that clam chowder.” Bish said wistfully before she took the spoon offered to her and took a delicate sip of the simmering stew. She nodded her head side to side, mulling over it. “Bit salty.”

“ _Everything_ is salty,” Edward piped up, a hint of mild distaste in his tone. “It’s how they preserve the meat and a lot of the other perishables.”

“Yeah, and it’s also why I don’t use any more salt when I make food. It’ll kill your taste buds.”

“It’ll also kill you dead for real if you over do it with the sodium,” Bish offered. Lupin nodded in a satirical sagely manner.

“Yeah, I’m looking to go for the record of ‘nobody died from my cooking’ and so far, I’m succeeding.”

“Those sound like pretty good goals,” Alphonse said with a wry grin tugging at his lips.

“Good goals indeed.” Bish agreed, imitating Lupin’s deliberately slow if mocking sagely nod. Her reverie of seriousness broke when she broke out grinning again, gently patting her friend on the shoulder. “How’re all the battle scars?”

Lupin snorted and wagged her bandaged hand in the air. “’Bout as good as it gets. Livingston gave me some of this painkiller stuff that Jack had picked up in Cádiz and honestly, it’s gross and bitter-tasting, but it works. Can’t really feel the pain anymore.”

That got the Elric brothers’ attention. They exchanged a look with one another, their earlier amusement dying down in an instant.

“Lupin, do you remember what Livingston called the medicine he gave you, by any chance?”

“Ummm…yeah. It was something like…lanaum…laudum…” She scrunched up her face as she spoke in concentration while she paused, trying to recall the medicine’s name.

“Laudanum?” Edward supplied helpfully. A light of recognition went off in Lupin’s eyes as she nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s it. That’s the one.”

The brothers exchanged another set of looks, this time with concern streaking their features.

“Lupin, there’s opium in that medicine.”

“You mean, like an opioid-based product?”

“No, as in, opium powder. Actual opium, _pure_ opium, not the medically adjusted type,” Edward stated outright. Lupin’s face turned a paler shade as her eyebrows shot skywards and her lips parted open as she stared wide-eyed and flabbergasted. Bishquet looked similarly distraught at the news and glanced between Lupin and the Elric brothers.

“I…oh. Oh, okay. So, I was…taking actual drugs…to feel better. Oh, my god, that’s just…”

“Dude. You’re probably better off sucking it up than taking that stuff anymore. Might wanna do it before you start getting addicted.”

Lupin only nodded, closing her mouth to purse her lips tightly together. She glanced at her bandaged hand. “It…it doesn’t hurt as badly anymore. I think I can do that. Yeah. I’ll just pass next time Livingston comes around.”

“Probably a good idea.” Alphonse offered with a smile and nod. “From what we’ve heard, your hand’s healing up fine, no signs of infection. You’ve toughed it out this far.”

Lupin wiggled her fingers gingerly with another grin of her own. “I guess I have. I’ll be okay. Besides, that shit tasted horrible. I wonder what else they put in it that makes it taste so bitter.”

“Nothing good, that much I can tell you. They mixed that stuff with a lot of other things that could probably kill you if you took too much.”

“Don’t even wanna know,” Bish replied with a wave of her own hand. “But, onto other subjects. We’re going to Tripoli. What’s so great about that place?”

“Tripoli is a pretty big trading port in the Mediterranean,” Alphonse offered. “To my knowledge, it still was a pretty big booming mecca in the 1920’s, and I’m guessing it’s still as such as in your time.”

“Honestly, I don’t really remember my history all that well. And we didn’t really cover international stuff all that much either. It wasn’t like we didn’t learn international things, it was just incredibly watered down to the point of not really even being there. A lot of our history lessons were focused on the United States, and even that stuff was skimmed over to get to the important highlights,” Bish replied sheepishly. Lupin nodded sadly when the young men looked to her.

“It’s true. If you wanted to dig deeper than school text books, you had to go to the library or just search the Web.”

“What do spiders have to do with research?” Edward remarked in a dubious tone.

“No, Ed, remember—it’s the Internet. ‘The Web’ is just another name for it. We’ve told you about it, remember? The Internet is the information network that can connect you to virtually anywhere in the world.”

“Except places that don’t have it.”

“But even places that don’t have it can eventually get it. You just gotta set up servers and towers and stuff. Or something like that, we aren’t the ones who made it, don’t ask us all the technical questions, we don’t know everything about it. We just know how to use it.”

Edward leaned against a support beam, arms crossing over his chest as he mulled over that. “Seems like a lot of work to build an entire building for just one room to hold a computer.”

“Oh my god, I feel like we have to tell him now,” Bish snickered with a tight-lipped smile, waggling her brows at Lupin. She smiled widely back, nodding silently before turning back to the Elric brothers.

“Computers are smaller now.”

“What, they downgraded to half a room?” Edward joked back.

“Try the size of the palm of your hand. It’s things like that that helped us get a man on the moon.” Lupin said, as a smirk slowly spread across her face while the light of laughter faded from Edward’s. He and Alphonse alike stared, dumbfounded. Bish joined Lupin in allowing a Cheshire cat grin to spread across her own face.

“I think we broke them, Loopy,” she crooned to the other woman. Lupin nodded.

“I think you’re right, we did. Totally blew their minds.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not,” Lupin said with a shrug, her smirk devolving to a smaller yet more genuine smile. “They’ve actually combined computers with phones. Shame we can’t prove it, since ours died. But you could access the Internet with phones. Endless amounts of information—historical, scientific, useless television show trivia—right at the tip of your fingers. And just so long as you have a signal. And money to pay to surf the internet.”

Bish nodded. Ah, yes. Who could forget the crazy extra nominal charges and hidden fees when one surfed the internet on one’s phone? She would rather pay extra every month for going over her text limits than to pay for accidentally opening up an internet window on her phone. Christ, the phone companies were out to get people.

“Amazing,” was all Edward could breathe out, huffing out a soft chuckle as a soft smile slowly but surely spread across his face. Alphonse mirrored his brother’s expression. Lupin and Bish alike would both readily admit that they didn’t have much experience with the world or technology that Edward and Alphonse had. Granted, the two women also didn’t live in the 1920s, and the Elric brothers did. It sort of helped having that hands on living experience. Their knowledge on history, even with a buff like Lupin, was also on the rusty side. Bish herself was beginning to realize how dependent they had been on the Internet for their stream of information, their connection to the world around them.

Now they were effectively cut off from the rest of the world, bound only to this ship and what contact they had with the outside world based on who they crossed paths with or where they made port. Or whatever they called it. Loopy would know better than her. She took the terminology a lot better than her. She took to this life a lot better than her, although they had yet to see all its ugly boils and warts yet.

“Yeah, it kind of is,” Bish said after a while, wistful and longing in her voice.  

From the corner of her eye, she saw Lupin quietly nodding solemnly. Bish also noticed Alphonse watching her sympathetically, and there was even a hint of it from Edward. She wished she could say that was almost a surprise at this point. Even with his occasional outburst moments here and there, his maturity had grown compared to what she remembered from the show. He’s certainly grown up, which shocked her more often these days.

“Hey, don’t worry about it too much. I’m sure we’ll find a way to get back home. Won’t we, brother?” Alphonse offered with a soft smile that, honestly, Bish really wanted to fall for and believe. She was holding out for Lupin’s word on Tia Dalma being a highly possible legitimate source to get them back home. If a veritable goddess couldn’t, then who in the hell could? Edward did his best to mask his doubt, but it wasn’t completely scrubbed from his face. It hid in plain sight in his eyes more than anything, and his silence was all the more damning. Alphonse’s smile fell as he turned to look at his older brother.

Whatever he had to say was interrupted by a shout from above.

The men who had been lounging below decks, resting or playing card or dice games, or finishing accounting for their supplies, cleaning the cannons and their pistols, sharpening their swords, and assuring that their weapons were at the ready, began to rush back up to join the others. The four in the galley stared as they saw the men disappearing into the slat of sunlight at the top of the stairs leading to the deck above, bemused.

“What did they say?”

They watched the last of the men scrambling up the steps, just a few meters away from where they stood in the galley.

“They said that there’s another ship on the horizon.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

A schooner lay on the horizon, its white sails bustling wide and open to admit the winds into them. It hull was riding low in the waters, a sign of it fat with supplies and goods ripe for the taking. The men leaned eagerly over the gunwale, staring out longingly at the ship, muttering amongst themselves about what precious cargo it could be carrying, debating what was more likely versus the options that were too outlandish for this part of the world.

All eyes turned toward the captain’s quarters when the double doors pushed open and the captain came sauntering out, long coat on, sword at his side, pistol in his sash. The men parted like the Red Sea around him as he came closer and peered out toward the schooner. A hush fell all around them, anticipating him keenly, hopefully, skeptically. Mister Gibbs shuffled closer until he was at Jack’s side.

“Orders, Cap’n?” He pressed, a faint hint of tentativeness lining his tone. The multitude of eyes on him glittered with optimism laced with longing.

Jack took time to deliberate in his answer, his gaze sweeping across the horizon, this way and that.

“There ain’t none other than the one out there, Cap’n,” one the men piped up among the crowd, as though guessing his intent. There was excitement to his words, a hopeful tinge that coated his tone. The air was electrified, tense, waiting for a response.

“Mister Gibbs,” Jack finally addressed the man at his side. Mister Gibbs jerked as though electrocuted, his entire frame turning rigid and his spine snapping ramrod straight.

“Aye, Cap’n?”

Everyone else froze in place, eyes locked, breathes held, energy crackling all around them as they waited. Jack had to resist from grinning as he surveyed his men’s faces, taking a moment to revel in their hanging on his every word. It felt good to be captain of his precious _Pearl_ once again.

He fluttered a hand off toward the schooner’s direction, replacing his gaze back to Gibbs.

“Set a course fer that merry little schooner. We have a duty to uphold, don’t we?”

The cheers were deafening and the smack of bare and booted feet were endless as the men scattered like rats across the deck, up the Jacob’s ladder, down below to the cannons. Gibbs was already scuttling about, shouting orders in his stead, but soon, Jack would take over and ensure things went smoothly. It would not do for him to leave his men to do all the work, now would it? Show a man that you’re willing to put forth some effort, and they’ll follow your lead every time, after all.

Every little cog was settling into place…all except for four, still staring out the azure horizon, their heads following the trail of the schooner in the distance.

Of course. The girls were not trained. He would need them out of the way, but where on his ship would they be safe and relatively incapable of snooping about in places they ought not to be? They were untrained, but then again, so were young lads who started off as cabin boys. They knew nothing of the sea, but in time they learned, in a manner of speaking.

They had fight in them, if it came down to it, all of them.

It was the Elric brothers he worried over more at this point in time. Would they refuse his orders, despite knowing very well that they had signed away their names to serve before the mast? _His_ mast, no less? If they did, he could always make an example of one of them, if only to get the others in line.

“Mister Gibbs,” he called above the squabble of voices, the symphony of movement. Gibbs came to his side after only a few moments’ delay, ruddy-faced beneath his silvered muttonchops, skin slicked with sweat, but nonetheless a gleam in his eyes that belied his glee. “Set the lads up below decks working the men on the guns. Be sure they’re armed. Same with the young lasses.”

Mister Gibbs’s face fell for only a moment, as he glanced over where the four still stood, watching as the _Black Pearl_ ’s bowsprit slowly turned in the direction of the distant schooner. They were already gaining in the short time since his orders were issued. It brought a faint smile to Jack’s lips. No ship could outrun his precious _Pearl_. Jack turned his attention back to his first mate, who twitched for a moment, perhaps a word of dissent on his lips before he thought better of it and remained silent. Then Gibbs nodded his acknowledgment of the orders. “I’ll be sure to outfit them proper, Cap’n.”

Mister Gibbs took his leave then, turning to round up the four, hurrying them along, ushering them below decks.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“You’re just _leaving_ us here? Down _here_?”

Mister Gibbs took pause at the skeptical tone from Miss Lupin. He hesitated, his reluctant retreat halted at once as he turned right back around. The Elric lads looked about as uncomfortable being outfitted with a set of blades as the girls did; they refused the pistols altogether. The girls did not, but that didn’t mean they looked any more confident in holding them. They were large and unwieldy in their tiny hands; it would have been a more natural fit for the Elric brothers to be holding them, but neither of them would take them. They certainly took the blades more readily.

Half of the _Pearl_ ’s men were already scuttling about the gun deck, preparing the guns on both sides—gathering the gunpowder, cleaning the barrels again for good measure, stuffing cannonballs inside, settling fuses into place, assuring the lines were tied properly to prevent any mishaps when the guns kicked back after firing. Their shouts were a familiar white noise to Gibbs’s ears, and seeing these four new faces among the men, it was almost an outlandish sight to behold.

Miss Ana held a great reserve of reluctance, it was plain as day on her face. Miss Lupin had more in confidence lining hers, but Mister Gibbs could see the hesitation in her eyes just as he saw it in Miss Ana’s all the same. This would be their first sea-faring raid of another ship. Mister Gibbs could only hope that the other ship’s crew would not put up much of a fight, that they would surrender quickly. It wasn’t always the case with merchant ships, but sometimes it happened.

The merchant schooner, to his eye, didn’t appear to be heavily armed, and the crew was probably not expecting a large ship such as the _Black Pearl_ to come bearing down on her and her crew. One could hope the crew did little to nothing, if they wished to preserve their lives.

 _One could hope_ , he told himself.

While a part of him acknowledged that these two young ladies were far from the norm one would expect from, well, proper young ladies, they had yet to see the uglier side of piracy. The bloodier side. The side that slit throats, stabbed hearts, shot heads at point blank range, tore bodies apart with the blast of a gun and sent severed limbs and entrails alike to the dark depths. And when the sea turned red with blood, it quickly grew clogged with the writhing, dark bodies of scavenging sharks, cleaning up the scraps from the battle’s aftermath. The sea and its wayfarers were not a kind breed to be trifled with. Many a man and even woman has learned of these hardships the difficult way. It was not a lifestyle to romanticize. Elizabeth Swann herself had learned that lesson firsthand.

He could still recall when he had first heard her singing songs about pirates on their crossing from England all those years ago, when he had still served for the Royal Navy. She had had such fanciful ideas of pirates back then, and he could see it still in the eyes of Miss Ana and Miss Lupin. This might be the thing that stole away the last of that from them.

Mister Gibbs looked over his charges for another moment before motioning them toward one of the relatively unmanned guns. He then called for one of the men over. It was Duncan, his long and curly black hair tied back for the time being, his tricorn hat having been put aside for the time being. He was outfitted with several weapons about his person, and looked as comfortable with them as he did in his own skin. He nodded to Mister Gibbs, ran his eyes over the four, then looked back to Mister Gibbs.

“Aye, sir?”

“Get these four up to speed on how to operate the guns; we can’t have them topside for this.”

“Aye, sir. All right, you lot, pay attention, this ain’t no toy, it could kill you as easily as it kills the enemy…”

Mister Gibbs turned away, reluctance still in his every step as he took himself further away from the four new faces and back out into the sun and sky to join Jack on the quarterdeck.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He could see the schooner’s name now through the lens of his scope. The _Little Wind_ was painted on the aft of the ship, the white paint slightly faded but still legible to be read. The hull was a dull blue, just as sun bleached as the rest of the ship. Her white sails were billowing, beautifully distended in the wake of the full winds that scurried along the Mediterranean. Jack took note of merchant sailors scrambling hither and thither along the _Little Wind_ ’s deck, no doubt they’ve already taken note of the _Pearl_ ’s presence.

He had yet to give the order to hoist their true colours. The _Little Wind_ , in contrast, flew her colours proudly: the Red Ensign. True to its name, most of its field was set in bright red, and in the top left corner, the Union Jack’s cross arms of white and red with dashes of blue were visible to any who bothered looking.

They hadn’t a clue who they were or where they hailed from, not yet anyways, and no doubt the merchants were observing his motley crew from afar in their own spyglass. Quite possibly, it’s put them into a further tizzy. They weren’t taking chances, Jack mused, his lips just barely curling into a faint smile. Jack finally barked to have their own colours flown and his orders were met promptly with the snap of heavy clothe in the wind and the creak of the lines being worked.

Slowly but surely, the black flag with the white skull and crossbones, the Jolly Roger in all its glory, rose higher and higher until it hit the apex of its height, proudly snapping in the wind. They were closer to the schooner now, gaining on her fairly quickly. The merchant sailors seemed to realize this as well, and were springing into action to man their own guns. They were small things, but they could still be damaging enough to the _Pearl_. They would have to swoop in fast, board quickly, and overpower the opposing crew.

Simple enough.

It was the waiting, however, that killed him. As fast as the _Black Pearl_ was, she wasn’t fast enough to get alongside the _Little Wind_ without fire being drawn to her first. There was no point in pretending to be anything but what and who they were, and dressing up the _Pearl_ as anything else would have been a disservice. All who knew of the _Pearl_ and her black sails and blackened hide, they knew of her equally black history. The _Little Wind_ ’s crew shot off a volley of fire at his ship, but those were the hazards he had to endure. They would fire off another round in a few minutes—precious moments to close the distance between the two ships, to get alongside them, close enough to get his men aboard and force the crewman to abandon the cannons and fight.

Or perhaps they could even be negotiated with.

He’d rather not lose too many crewmen himself, if any, if he could help it—but having goods to trade away in exchange for other supplies, that was a must. It also wouldn’t hurt if a few of the merchants jumped ship and came to serve on his ship. The more hands there were, the merrier a voyage it would be. It would also mean more mouths to feed, but it would also more hands on deck.

Predictably, minutes later, the _Little Wind_ spat out another volley of cannonballs at the _Pearl_ from her guns, curling tendrils of smoke hazing into the air around the _Little Wind_. Beyond, Jack could hear the sharp explosion of cannons, the growing whistle of the heavy iron balls flying through the air, the great booming splash of ocean water spraying upwards as each hit missed their mark. He could see the plumes of white smoke continuing to rise up and coat the air, and smell the acrid stench that came along with it that mixed tantalizingly with the briny scent of the sea.

There was something _special_ about the smell of burning gunpowder.

Jack called off another round of orders, moving purposefully towards the helm and taking his place there. Mister Cotton and his parrot quietly relinquished their position to him, and scampered off to follow his orders, another set of hands to pull their weight. They were in such a position that he could have them fire the cannons and he gave the order. They were relayed to below decks immediately.

The _Black Pearl_ rocked mightily beneath him as her port side cannons fired off, nearly all of them in unison. A number hit the water, but more than enough struck the _Little Wind_ alongside her aft and a good chunk of her starboard side. Wood splintered and shattered apart from the blows, sending the shards flying. Smoke sizzled out from the side of the _Pearl_. He could hear the muffled orders from below among the dizzying array of noise, just barely, perhaps orders to reload the cannons most likely. 

Those still topside scattered about the deck, readying their weapons and tools in hand: grappling hooks attached to long lines tied down to the ship. The _Black Pearl_ slid up alongside the _Little Wind_ now, quick as can be. The men needed no further prompting. They threw out the grappling hooks once they were close enough to the _Little Wind_ , damn near alongside her. Now was the time to reel her in.

He could see the merchant sailors scrambling like mad along the decks, saw a plump looking fellow shouting himself hoarse at the others. Riddled with a sweat-and-soot stained face, ruddy cheeks, short in height, rumpled clothes, mousy brown hair peppered with grey and tied back, and a pistol in hand—he took a shot and it seemed to have missed everyone and everything on his ship entirely. Jack heard himself bellow out another set of orders, and his men, beautifully, followed through.

The _Little Wind_ was being drawn in, and while some of the merchant sailors were trying to gallantly dislodge them, more grappling hooks were thrown from the _Pearl_ , latching on to the smaller schooner. The sea itself seemed calm enough to allow a gangplank to be secured when the ships were side by side. Most of the men were too busy swinging aboard to rush the _Little Wind_ to bother with it, while some even hopped from gunwale to gunwale.

Mister Cotton, seemingly having anticipated Jack preparing to leave the helm, seemed to melt back into place as Jack took his leave. His skinny large hands took hold of the spokes without a word needing to be spoken to him to do so. Cotton’s large and colourful parrot screeched behind Jack as he took his leave. Pistol fire rang throughout in the air, but there were no longer the sounds of cannons going off. Men from below decks surged upwards, a battle cry on their lips as they sprang from deck to deck. Not much more incentive was needed to have the merchant crewmen to lay down what few weapons they had and surrender. The moment they saw more pirates coming out of the woodworks, in almost a quite literal sense, each bearing a sword or pistol or both, it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out they were sorely outgunned and outmatched. The little schooner was barely half the _Pearl_ ’s size and length. If Jack had truly wanted and if he were the type of man to do so, he could have sunk the vessel without a second thought. The _Black Pearl_ had more than enough adequate fire and manpower to do so. The _Little Wind_ would have been torn to pieces.

It was a good thing Captain Jack Sparrow was not the type of man to needlessly slaughter whole crews and sink vessels.

Barely a drop of blood had been shed. Jack was almost disappointed, but then it disappeared just as quickly and he waved it along by as it did. He crossed the deck and up along gangplank in the sudden eerie silence, finding his men rounding up the last of the merchant ship’s crew.

The sailors were down on their knees on a cleared space of deck, hands up behind their heads, all gathered in the center of a ring of pirates. Some were already finding lengths of rope to tie up their prisoners with. Most took pause as Jack arrived on the scene, soaking up the sight before him. He caught the eye of the plump captain and he motioned to the man with a flick and exaggerated wiggle of his fingers. “You there, up, up, up.”

The captain darted his gaze around him, as though to be sure Jack was indeed talking to him, before Leech and Ho-Kwan grabbed the man on either side and hauled up him to his feet. The pudgy little man looked flustered and his face was beginning to grow red. Whether it was from embarrassment, the heat, or possibly both, Jack wasn’t entirely sure. No matter. He offered a lip-curling smirk to the man, flecks of gold teeth just barely visible as he sauntered his way closer toward the other man held suspended between the two pirates.

“Now, if I’m to assume, an’ I’m almost certain I’m assumin’ correctly, you are th’ captain of this fine little vessel.”

The portly man, red-faced and all, nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am. And I’ll have you know, you filthy pirate—”

“Now, now, we’re all friends here! No need to be rude with th’ name-callin’,” Jack said in mild disappointment, wagging a finger at the other captain.

“I’d rather be shot than to be considered friends with a pirate such as yerself, _sir,”_ the man continued haughtily, glowering at Jack.

“Fierce words comin’ from a man whose crew only moments ago surrendered to me an’ my men,” Jack pointed out as he continued.

“Fierce words indeed. Perhaps he means to back them.” A voice piped up. Jack swung his gaze over to Leech staring him down, boring into him actually, and if it were possible, he was doing so with more intensity than even the _Little_ _Wind_ ’s crew were at that moment. “Perhaps you should teach him a lesson in civility.”

Jack’s smile fell, brief and fleeting, as laughter rung behind him like the peals of a bell from his crew. His eyes narrowed at Leech, before his smile alit his face once more. “I don’t see the need. Like I said,” he turned back to the ruddy-faced man once more, “I’m sure he’d rather not risk any more men than he already has. Aye?”

The man didn’t budge, his face remaining stony and rigid in its defiance. If anything, it seemed to almost balloon with rage, if the growing redness was any indication.

“Finish tyin’ up the crew, lads. Soon’s that’s done, we’ll start movin’ the goods to th’ _Pearl_.”

There was a round of affirmatives from his men, relieved and elated, if he were to judge rightly from the sound of it.

“Y-you can’t! That’s our merchandise! Our livelihood!” The _Little Wind_ ’s captain jerked forward in protest, only to be yanked by his men. Leech, he noticed, was especially forceful, making the man yelp.

Jack stepped closer, a hand draped ever so casually upon the hilt of his cutlass, his smile growing wider.

“I believe you’ll see that we can, in fact, do just that.” Jack stated matter-of-factly, before he shrugged and after flashing a faint gold-flecked smile and a flash of mirth in his dark eyes, he stated simply, “Pirates.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Cap’n! There’s a ship approaching on the horizon! Off the portside!”

Marty’s voice was hoarse and low, but audible all the same as it carried across the deck of the _Little Wind_. Heads turned on a swivel to look as well, some in the process of transferring supplies and goods to the _Black Pearl_ , others already over on the other much larger ship. They too looked. Lupin exchanged a look with Bish, before both women slid their gazes over to join in the gawking. Bish shifted uncomfortably as she tugged at the pistol—oversized and long and hard contours—stuffed in the makeshift sash tied hastily around her waist. Some of the men had found the scrap of cloth and shoved it onto her, along with the pistol. How the hell was she supposed to use it, even? Didn’t these things only have one shot? And why did she get the pistol and not a sword, like Lupin?

Now she felt that worry expand tenfold with the sight of white sails heralding closer on the horizon. She tugged at her friend’s shoulder, gently, to get her attention. She motioned toward the approaching ship.

“Good or bad?”

Lupin shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I’m blinder than you right now.”

Oh, that was a good point. Lupin had torn out her contacts a long time ago, and unlike Bish, didn’t bring her glasses with her wherever she went, just in case. But truth be told, she also knew her friend wasn’t _that_ blind. Things in the distance were only slightly fuzzy to her friend. If Bish lost her glasses—or even her oh-so-precious spares stashed away in her bag—she would be the one well and truly blind.

“You’re the expert on this time period.”

“I’m starting to hate that you see me as the expert.”

“Hey, I’m not the one that used to brag about being a pirates-loving scalawag.”

“Hating I ever even said that even more.” Lupin grumbled back with an exaggerated glower and frown shot Bishquet’s way. Bish, in return, smiled sweetly.

“The regrets of a teenager’s past antics. You’re growing up, I’m so proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Lupin waved a dismissive hand. She turned her gaze back out toward the horizon, squinting with a hard frown on her lips. Her expression softened the more she stared, but it didn’t grow any more alarmed than it already was. “It’s not a pirate hunter. That much I’m sure of. I think Jack would’ve noticed by now, but don’t quote me on that yet.”

“Pirate hunters were a thing? Like, an actual thing, not some kind of Hollywood invention like the plank-walking stuff you’re always ranting about?”

“Yeah. I mean, they’re sailors commissioned and hired by the various navies of the world’s competing superpowers to, well, hunt pirates. That’s their specific and only job—because naval ships couldn’t spend all their time hunting pirates, they had other jobs to fulfill and accomplish. Military things, I guess.”

“That makes sense,” Bish acknowledged halfheartedly. She stared off at the ship as well. It was strange-looking, not like those she’s seen at port in Cádiz, or the _Black Pearl_ herself. This ship had a rather streamlined hull in comparison, comprised of three masts with triangular-shaped sails to boast of, and was darkly coloured like gunmetal grey. It was closing in on them quickly, the wind pulling taut all of her sails to their full extent and yanking her forward across the pristine Mediterranean waters. It was almost…idyllic to look at.

“It’s the _Seref!”_

She glanced over at the _Little Wind,_ where Marty was, and wondered on the name. A few others around them muttered their own surprise, but not a one of them appeared alarmed or concerned in the least. It must have been a well-known ship amongst them. Lupin stiffened beside her, utterly a soft noise of surprise.

“I know I’ve heard that name before. I can’t place it though…”

Her friend groaned softly. Bish patted her on the shoulder. “There, there. Your head is bursting with useless trivia half the time, it’s not your fault if you can’t remember them all at once.”

All around her, however, everyone else seemed to recognize the name more than Lupin did. Men murmured openly to one another, casting warily excited, if guarded, looks to one another.

“Is that…is that a xebec?”

Bish jumped at the voice hovering just behind her, but just as quickly calmed when she saw Alphonse standing there, a hand hooded over his brow to shade his eyes as he gazed out toward the incoming ship. He squinted, his taupe eyes squinting ever so slightly as he did so.

“Um…what’s a xebec?”

“It’s a ship common in the Mediterranean,” Edward called to them as he approached, walking briskly, his golden eyes turned to the horizon as well. “Me and Al have seen quite a few when we ended up in Greece for a few weeks. Remember that?”

Alphonse offered a smile as he nodded, his expression melting into thoughtfulness. “I do, yeah. I also remember when Noa—” _  
_

Here he stopped short, as though the wind had been knocked out of him, and he froze, his words failing him. Alphonse glanced at his brother, who went just as still and quiet, his faint smile dying completely. A flash of remorse crossed his features. It was swift—there one moment and then gone the next, but it had been there. Bish noticed the just-as-brief look of worry cross Lupin’s face, but neither of the Elric brothers seemed to notice.

“Who’s Noa?” Lupin finally asked, her voice very quiet. Bish only recalled the name in the vaguest sense that it was important. Lupin very well knew, most likely, but she asked it anyways. Neither of them knew that she had any inkling to the name’s significance.

“She was a friend. Someone we’d been traveling with for a few years. She…she was waiting for us, back in Europe, when what happened to us…happened. She’s probably heard by now that our ship’s gone down. That we…” Edward fell quiet, his words trailing off as he dropped his eyes away from all of them. “She doesn’t know we’re alive, because we’re not in the right time period. She probably thinks we’re dead.”

“Brother…”

“Actually…maybe that can be avoided.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Lupin and she hesitated to speak at first, before she let a small smile flicker onto her features.

“I know that it’s going to sound nuts, especially when I’m going back on a reference none of you will really get but—time isn’t linear. It’s just not. Who says we have to go forward to our respective time periods, directly _after_ the events that brought us here in the first place? Time is…wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey…stuff! We can go forward to any point in time we need to. We could even probably ask Tia Dalma, if it’s within her range, to stick us where we intended to go in the first place—right as the bad stuff hit us all. Me and Bish at our hotel, you and Al in Europe. Yeah, it’d be insane to explain away, but this time travel stuff doesn’t exactly seem to be written in stone, so it’s flexible. While our past selves end up traveling back in time, our future selves end up where we belong. So you wouldn’t really be worrying her at all. For all you know, in your time period, you’re already reuniting with Noa and whoever else you intended to cross paths with.”

There was a moment of silence that stuck around all of them like a persistent and stubborn bubble that just wouldn’t pop. Everything around them seemed unimportant in comparison all of a sudden, as the other three seemingly processed what had just been said. Both the Elrics exchanged a look, their expressions unreadable. Bish finally cracked a smile and snickered under her breath.

“Um…Loopy, hun? Have you been hitting the rum while I wasn’t looking?”

Lupin scowled as Bishquet continued to smile at her friend. Lupin patted the air in front of her, pointing at Bish accusingly. “You don’t watch _Doctor Who_ , you don’t understand the intricacies of the plots I’ve seen.”

“If you say so,” Bish chuckled. In truth, she could see what Lupin was trying to intend on, and that was make Edward and Alphonse feel better. She gathered enough of the gist to see that much. It was a nice sentiment…if a bit convoluted to think about. _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’s_ Time Turner sequences seemed less complicated than what Lupin was proposing, but it was understandable all the same.

…sort of.

But the intended effect Lupin was aiming for seemed to have worked. Alphonse smiled tentatively in thanks to Lupin’s efforts, and even Edward seemed less tense and pensive. Neither of them got to say so, however. Some of the men on the _Little Wind_ were finishing their work and returning to the _Black Pearl,_ having taken every scrap of valuable goods that wasn’t nailed down and they could get their hands on. Lupin sighed flatly.

“Yay, inventory and accounting and stock-checking. My favourite non-official job.”

“More than half the crew can’t read or write. You got the lucky draw on that end,” Edward remarked, amused. He appeared at ease now, and yet Bish had the sense he most likely hadn’t forgotten the mention of Noa. There was a strange distance in his eyes, as though he wasn’t quite with them, not completely. Even Alphonse didn’t seem as focused on the matter, either. Lupin groaned very softly under her breath. _  
_

“Can I start pretending I lost the ability to do either or is it too late?” Lupin asked of Bish. The Hispanic woman snorted, waving her hands as though to ward off the other woman.

“Don’t rope me into doing your work, sweetie. Not unless you want to learn a new job,” Bish clucked her tongue. For now, she’d pretend she hadn’t noticed either of the Elric brothers’ distractions.

“I would rather climb around the rigging and the masts, if that’s what you mean.”

“I doubt Jack will let you.”

“Who says I’m gonna sit by and listen to him tell me ‘no’?” Lupin grumbled back obstinately, but she followed after her friend nonetheless. Bish ambled closer toward the gunwale furthest from the _Little Wind_ , joining in staring at the xebec sailing ship as it drew closer. They could make out men scurrying about the other ship’s deck now. The Little Wind was no longer on her mind. They were getting ready to push off and leave the ship to their own dealings. Bish worried for the people on the Little Wind, for sure—but she highly doubted Jack would leave them to rot. They’d make it, she was sure of it. They’d be limping along to the next port, but they’d make it all the same.

Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself, to keep the guilt at bay, from standing by and doing nothing while they were robbed at cannon, sword, and pistol-point. What could she do? This was a pirate’s life: pillaging and pilfering on the high seas. It wasn’t an honest living, but it was a living. And she wanted to get home in one piece, even if it meant doing or assisting in a few unsavoury things along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Additional Notes: So, I had a troll come in after me on another story I had published. Needless to say, they were pretty disappointing. Amusing mostly, but ultimately underwhelming and disappointing. They’re not really worth engaging. Any and all trolls will be blocked. That’s all I have left to say on the matter.**
> 
> **On another note, laudanum is a real thing, and it was a primary source of painkillers for quite a few centuries, obscure for quite some time before gaining notoriety and used to relieve pain but also diarrhea, aid in sleep, and to keep in check excessive secretions, among other things. Apparently, it was prescribed to Victorian women quite often to relieve menstrual cramps and was also spoon-fed to infants. Perhaps for teething, gassy, or colic infants, I assume.**
> 
>  
> 
>  **Laudanum was also mixed with just about everything imaginable: mercury, hashish, chloroform, belladonna, whiskey, wine, brandy, cayenne pepper, and ether. Some of these things are, you know, pretty damn poisonous to humans already (belladonna and mercury, anyone?), and as far as opioids tend to go, it was a highly addictive drug that cost less than a bottle of gin or whiskey, and wasn’t taxed because it wasn’t alcohol. Old-school medicine doesn’t fuck around, man!**
> 
>  
> 
> **Does anyone else remember the days when smart phones were in their infancy, and flip phones were still a thing? Where, if you accidentally hit that internet option, it took forever to boot up—but you were already charged like, an extra hundred bucks for attempting to access the internet for the literal two seconds it was actually up before you shut it off in a panic because you couldn’t turn it off while booting up? For my younger audience, probably not. For my older readers—and my beta—we do. We remember better than Pepperidge Farms of the woes and panic. Some of us even remember walkmans, floppy discs, and tape cassettes. Take that in for a second. And realize just how old this author is. We know the struggles were real. Be grateful for your smart phones, you young whippersnappers. It wasn’t always easy! XD**


	15. Friends in Low Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here on belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Notes: [12 Dec 2017] So a lot’s happened. I had a baby, my second one. I named him something nerdy, just like my daughter. I managed to get through another semester of college while pregnant/taking care of a newborn. Oh, right, and I actually managed to finish this chapter before year’s end! Consider this your Christmas gift! Happy Holidays to y’all; whatever you may celebrate, I hope you have a good time with friends and family.**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

_“You want to be my friend?”  
“No, you scare me a little.”  
_ **-Doctor Gregory House and Lucas, “ _House M.D._ ”**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Triploi was as booming a trade port mecca as it had been made out to be. Most of the crew had not had the pleasure to see the sprawling city before. The few that had appeared just as relieved to have finally made it to port when they did. Winding down everything else took a matter of half the afternoon. By the time evening hit, nearly every crew member had spilled off into the town the moment they were allowed. The unlucky few needed to stay behind for ship duty watched sourly as their ship mates left without so much as a glance back.

Twilight hung in the air, a buffer between day and night as Lupin, Bishquet, Edward, and Alphonse decided to stretch their legs all the same as the rest of the crew. They lost track of everyone else, but it made little difference. Edward watched as the last trace of the crew disappeared around corners of buildings, into the throngs of the still-crowded streets, behind the stalls of merchants still hawking their wares to passersby. He didn’t mind so much in allowing the women to lead the way—letting their eyes wander and their legs carry them wherever they desired.

They had been just as cooped up as he and his brother and the rest of the _Pearl_ ’s crew had been. Edward let his gaze wander about, noticing the different stalls that they passed held a myriad of things—spices and herbs; bolts of cloth of varying textures and material; cages with a plethora of animals; fish, clams, oysters, eels, and more caught fresh in the morning…it was hard to see what all else there was, not with the light fading on them. Soon it’d be too dark for even the merchants to hope to trade anything.

The glow of tallow and wax candles, lanterns, and hearths alike alit the streets where business were still open—the most commonplace of those being of inns, whorehouses, and bars.

“What’s the plan?” He called to the others after they spent a good twenty minutes of wandering, prompting them to all look at him. They had slowly but surely been working their way further from the docks and wharfs, inching closer toward the city proper. Bish and Lupin halted. He and Alphonse did the same. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Alphonse was keeping an eye on their backs, giving cursory glances that looked like gawking at first glance. In reality, he was making sure nobody would sneak up on them, for any number of reasons. So far, the crowd had little reason to bother them.

“Would you object to sleeping in a real bed tonight?” Lupin pressed tentatively, giving him a thin smile. Edward considered for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, returning the smile.

“Not particularly. It’s not like we don’t have the money to do so.”

At the mention of their payment, the back of his throat suddenly tasted sour. It was a stolen pittance from the _Little Wind_. According to what the others had said, Jack had next to no coin for the crew to pay them, and that raid on the _Little Wind_ had been just enough to stave off what was owed them all. They had enough to buy a room for the night, a hot meal, perhaps even for new garments if they were so inclined. Cádiz had had a decent market, but Tripoli was by far a much larger port city and had more economic stimulation and flow from all walks of life. It was one of several lifeblood trading centers of the Mediterranean.

“I wouldn’t mind spending some time on land,” Alphonse concurred with a nod of his own, offering a smile to Lupin and Bishquet. The two women in return smiled back, relief written plainly on their faces.

“Good, because we would have dragged you along with us regardless of how you felt about it,” Bish replied breezily, giving the two of them a wink and a cheeky grin, her dark eyes glittering with mirth. Lupin snickered, her smile still thin and tight, but there was a hint of teeth that showed very briefly before she turned away. Edward blinked. He hadn’t noticed her dimples before, not until she turned away, back to leading them back to the city proper. Alphonse nudged him and he started forward, legs automatically reacting before his mind caught up. He glanced at his brother, who only laughed quietly at first.

“We’re going to get left behind if you just stand there, brother. Let’s get going.”

“Right. Sorry,” he muttered back, craning his head to glance back. Already, the sight of the Black Pearl was disappearing, just another set of masts, lines, and sails blending into an endless display of ships at the docks. He was almost wishing that this was the last time he was seeing the pirate ship.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

He couldn’t remember last night when he first awoke. It was just as well, though. Many an hour had been spent in just as many bars, drinking away and frittering his coin to whoever would sell him a plethora of drinks. The warm body that was beginning to edge in to his awareness alerted him as to where another good chunk of it had gone to. The warm body groaned and sighed sleepily beside him and for a moment, Jack was content to lie there as well. Not because he had a particular fondness for this particular woman, no. He was just waiting for his head to stop hurting. When the roar had gone down to a decidedly bearable dull throb, he got up and dressed—none too quietly, either. By the time he had finally located his pants, the woman who had shared and warmed his bed was waking up. Her rich sepia-toned skin caught the stray rays of golden sunlight filtering into the room just right, giving her a warm glow. She reached to muss with her thick, curly hair and try to tame it into a semblance of control. She had spoken broken bits of English, that much he remembered, but it had been enough to catch his attention last night—or at least, that’s how he remembered it as.

He spotted his pants on the crooked dressed and reached for them, before noticing her dress lying beneath them. He took both and handed the woman her dress. She wordlessly took it, watching him with wide dark eyes. Just as wordlessly, she dressed, slowing slipping the simple cotton dress upon her frame. When she finished, she left without saying a word or looking at him. Jack stared for only a moment, before he slipped on his coat after a few beats. She hadn’t even asked for payment.

He pondered that, patting his pockets and after locating his coin purse, perused through what he had and found it to be…well, mostly all there. Minus the drinks from last night, he hadn’t paid off anything else. And he had managed to cut his bill back rather drastically by snatch up bottles when the bartender or unsuspecting patrons weren’t looking. It was all in the wrist, after all.

Barbossa had learned that the hard way.

Curiousity sated, if still a mite confused, Jack finished dressing and managed to make it down the rickety steps of the inn he had taken to the night before without stumbling. It was only when he reached the doorway did he nearly trip, arms pin wheeling about as he struggled to right himself. On what he tripped upon, he wasn’t sure, but a wayward glance over his shoulder didn’t much answer his inquiry, so he continued on his way.

Tripoli was already booming and well underway by the time he stepped out into the mid-morning sun. Jack squinted up at the mostly clear skies, catching sight of thin little clouds marching slowly across the hot blue Libyan sky. He could scarcely recall the last time he’s been in these parts. Tripoli was a mess when it came to the multiple ethnicities that ran rampart across its streets—he’d catch sight of nearly every skin colour there was, and just about every language to boot. French, Arabic, English, Spanish, Greek—so many more. It was a hub for all, one of several major arteries in the trade route in the Mediterranean—including that of pirates.

It was little wonder Captain Villanueva had sent word for his father to meet him here, so long as he was in the area. He didn’t like this waiting game, honestly. Moving along as quickly as possible, especially with the Royal British Navy nipping at his heels, that’s what he needed to do. If Norrington and his ilk hadn’t sank back in that last hurricane, than no doubt he’s sniffing out Jack’s scent, honing in on it like a damned bloodhound.

The unfortunate twist in all of this was the information he so sorely needed was within Captain Teague’s grasp, and nobody else’s.

Or so rumour had it, and rumour was all Jack had to go on, and he has gone out for more on less information before. This was certainly nothing new.

That didn’t mean he necessarily liked it.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

There were a myriad of marketplaces sprinkled all over the city. Some were small and hidden away in pocket corners. Others took up entire city squares. Stores of all manner, selling countless items, were hidden treasures just waiting to be found, by strangers and locals alike. This wasn’t including the merchant stalls that were littered along the city’s the docks and wharfs. Tripoli itself was a sprawling, thriving beast in comparison to their last land-based visit. By the time someone mentioned they should take a break to eat something and pause in their perusing, it was nearly past noon.

They had survived off of little snacks purchased in their perusing—a pastry here, a roasted stick of spiced little meats there—but a full meal would have been nice. They backtracked to the inn they had stayed at, where the ovens were always firing hot and the kitchen was always open, at any time of day.

After they arrived, they found an open table in the corner, light spilling in through the slightly dusty windows and onto the scuffed and roughened hardwood floors. It was mellow and quiet during the midday—not as many people coming or going. Other than a few other patrons sitting at their own tables, it was relatively empty. One of the innkeepers came to ask if they wanted some lunch with drinks, and after taking their affirmatives, flounced off to fulfill their orders.

“We really need to figure out priorities,” Bish said, finally breaking the quiet between them all. It hadn’t been awkward at all, far from it. It was a comfortable sort of silence, a companionable kind that she had grown used to in the passing weeks. Sometimes, she found it hard to believe that the two young men sitting across from her had, once upon a time, been nothing but 2D animated characters to her and her friend—and millions of other viewers back in her time period.

Alphonse perked at her words, while Edward slid his gaze to side eye her. He kept his head slightly turned, perhaps to keep an eye on things going on beyond them. Lupin raised a brow at her.

“Explain,” the other woman simply drawled, propping her arm up on the table and her chin on her fist, eyes half-lidded yet focused.

“I’ve already gotten myself hair product—actual honest-to-god _hair product_ —for this beast I call _my hair_. I mean, it’s got coconut oil in it—that stuff is a _godsend_ for these messy curls of mine.”

Lupin grinned, lazy and Cheshire-like, as she reached with her free hand and patted Bish on the head. “Sheep.”

Bishquet nodded. “Sheep. Sheep curls.”

Edward snorted, and she spotted the faintest curl of his lips rise into a smile. Barely there, but it was still there all the same. Alphonse had a softer expression painting his face, a pleasant and genuine smile aimed her way.

“We noticed. You couldn’t stop squealing about it.” He offered amicably, his eyes dancing with laughter.

“I wasn’t _squealing_ ,” Bish defended, her tone taking on a mocking wounded pitch. Alphonse laughed, and so did Lupin. She crossed her arms further in a mock-huff, tilting her head up just a smidge. “I was celebrating. None of you know my struggles when it comes to hair. Not. A. One.”

Bish punctuated the last three words by nodding to each of them in turn. Lupin held up her hands in surrender. “Hey, hey—I’ve already conceded that. My hair gets grody after a while if I don’t take care of it—snarls and knots and oil galore—but I can’t compare to you and your sheep curls. My hair is straight and boring and relatively easier to fix compared to yours.”

Bish eyed her friend for a moment, trying to keep her composure—before promptly failing and breaking out into a grin, nodding to Lupin. “Thank you.”

The other woman shrugged, before pressing on. “So, we saw that you got your precious hair products, a toothbrush, some metal prongs—”

“—tweezers, actually,” Bish corrected breezily. Lupin flapped a hand, as though to wave away the semantics of it all.

“Tomato, tomahto. Stuff to pamper yourself with, basically.”

“Yeah, so? What the hell are you waiting for? And you two, for that matter?”

“Boots. Me and Al stopped in a shoemaker’s place while you were comparing those combs at that one merchant’s stall. We got our measurements done and put in a rush order. Guy should be done in two days’ time, well before we have to leave.” He looked as pleased as the cat that got the canary, if his slow grin that spread across his face was any indication. Alphonse looked just as pleased.

“At any rate, neither of us will be using borrowed boots from who-knows-where,” Alphonse added with a chipper grin. Bish nudged her friend when she said nothing.

“Hey. What about you? I saw you zooming all over the place, but you didn’t get anything, did you?”

“This ain’t exactly the mall, ya know,” Lupin replied casually with a shrug.

“What’s a mall?” Edward inquired, his brow crinkling in puzzlement. The two women exchanged a glance.

“We’ll explain it later,” Lupin settled on before pushing forward. “And I didn’t get much of anything because some of the places I wanted to go into, they kicked me out of.”

“What?”

“Something about no women allowed. One of the store clerks threatened the authorities on me if I showed my face around his shop again.” Lupin griped with a scowl slowly spreading across her face. Bish stared, incredulous. The Elric brothers looked equally skeptical at her claims.

“Are you fucking serious?” Bish questioned, her lips twitching into a frown.

“Like a heart attack,” Lupin swore, raising her hands as though she were pleading under oath. “Some of the clerks spoke broken English, others didn’t speak it at all—I think…I think it was Arabic? But I got the gist fair enough.”

“What were you even trying to look at?” Alphonse pressed earnestly. Genuine curiousity radiated off of him, as did the concern as he looked her over. It was as though he was looking for more injuries he had somehow missed that needed to be accounted for, and honestly, Lupin couldn’t blame him, given her spotty track record as of late. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t gone off like she had back in Cádiz, even if the temptation, if only to explore more thoroughly, had been there.

 

“Just...a new shirt, maybe? I keep getting stares, and while I do mostly tan—I can still burn. I just need something a bit more protective than no sleeves.” Lupin shrugged sheepishly. “I also wanted to see if I could get a book. Or some art supplies. Something I occupy my hands with.”

 

She shifted in her seat, schooling her face into a neutral mask. A part of her was embarrassed; she should have realized that a woman donning pants and a sleeveless shirt would have gotten more than a fair share of stares. She also didn’t want to mention she had been looking into getting a knife, a personal one. Something she could carry around without notice, something that she could easily hide. A sword was an obvious enough threat, as was a pistol, and either of them sent a strong enough message: _‘I’m armed and dangerous.’_ Alternatively, either could be seen as a challenge or a rallying cry for trouble.

A knife wasn’t as obvious a statement; it was a hidden threat, one that most wouldn’t expect to see coming. She was hoping to get one for herself, and if she had enough money left over, one for Bish too. She wanted them both safe and sound and in one piece by the time they reached Tia Dalma’s.

Was that too much to ask for?

Before any of the others could offer any input, their food arrived, hot and fresh. The bread that accompanied it was a little stale, but still edible. It was the ale that came with it that threw them for a loop. Bish eyed it for a moment, sniffing delicately. It didn’t smell too sour. Lupin eyeballed her own mug, looking appropriately distracted.

“Um…I’m still underage, technically, right?”

“Only in our time. I think everyone drinks alcohol in this time and age,” Bish answered, waggling her brows at her friend. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll supervise you and make sure you don’t get tipsy or blindingly drunk, poor thing.”

The other woman huffed, ignoring the soft laughs coming from the Elric brothers. “We have a drinking law in America, so sorry if I fell back on social norms appropriate to my current culture,” she deadpanned at them.

“Oh, you were serious?” Edward chuckled back.

“No, I was kidding just so I could fuck with you,” Lupin pressed. Edward gave her a sour look, while Alphonse’s smile momentarily dropped. She sighed. “Of course we have a drinking age law. It used to be…I want to say eighteen, up until the eighties. There was an alarming rate of teenagers crashing their cars while under the influence on the rise…or something like that and a new coalition group amongst the civilian populations rose up as a result. Mothers Against Drunk Driving.”

“M.A.D.D., if you want to shorten it,” Bish chirped in with a nod.

“And new laws got passed after they rallied up, forcing the government to up the drinking age to twenty-one.”

“Which, I am of legal age to consume alcohol back home, but not you.” Bishquet added in helpfully, to which Lupin nodded.

“Unless we travel abroad to, say, Europe…”

“Where the drinking laws are still set up at the tender age of eighteen,” Bish finished before pausing, almost thoughtfully, and then added, “In most countries, anyway, if I’m remembering correctly. England, France, and Germany are the only ones I can think of that have it set up that way. I have no clue about all the others—I barely remember what they are.”

Lupin took one last look at the mug set before her, sniffing a few times at the contents within, as though it was simply another piece of her meal she had to test before tasting to decide whether she would consume it at all. She cast a simpering look toward Bishquet, as though seeking permission from the older woman. Bish snorted.

“What? I’m not your mother. You don’t need to ask me. Go. Drink. Be merry. Just don’t end up streaking naked in the town square after one sip, because honestly, you look like you’ll get tipsy on just a thimble-full of beer. No offense.”

“There was no offense, until you just said that,” Lupin snapped back without missing a beat, a tight smile and soft laugh bubbling up from her. “And I’m looking to you, because, you technically speaking are the oldest one here. At least I think you are.”

“Goddamn, woman. Why’d you have to bring that up? I was hoping nobody would notice.”

“Wait, how old _are_ you?” Edward piped up. Alphonse could only nod, a spoonful of the meaty stew already ladled into his mouth. His eyes darted back and forth between the two women thoughtfully.

Bishquet sighed, tacking on as much fake dramatic fashion as she could, rolling her eyes at the smirk Lupin was failing to hide.

“I’m twenty-two. Three years older than this spaz.”

“I’m not a spaz.” Lupin grumbled to no one in particular, her expression turning grumpy as she side-eyed Bish. “Not _as_ much anymore, anyway.”

“Your brain’s still under construction. You’re a spaz, a history geek, and a media nerd—all tied up into a messy little package. You should be flattered on the front since, since I mean that in the most loving way possible.” Bish chided her friend. She returned her attention back to the Elric brothers. “She’s nineteen, by the way. We met a few years ago thanks to the love of consuming stories—whether it was by making our own, reading others’ fan-created works, or watching a much-loved television show we both happened to enjoy: _Yu Yu Hakusho_. It was an animated Japanese television show that ran in the mid-nineties. The ending was a little bittersweet after it’s one hundred-something odd episodes, but it wrapped up nicely enough. Not as nicely as _Harry Potter_ , but what’re you gonna do about all that? Can’t win them all!”

“Awww…why’d you have to go and mention _Yu Yu Hakusho_? Now I’m gonna crave watching it, and I can’t. Ah, wait. Correction: _we_ can’t watch it.”

“…this is true. But you know what else sucks? We can’t read _Harry Potter_ , either, let alone much of anything else, so we’re suffering two-fold. Suck it up.”

Lupin snorted, eyeing her friend for a few seconds. Casually, she slid her gaze towards the Elric brothers, her mild annoyance dissipating in an instant. Clearly, this was an ages-old complaint between the two of them, but they never held it against one another. It wouldn’t help much of anything if they went at one another’s throats over something so trivial in comparison to their other troubles. At this point, it was just something to voice in a playfully teasing, if melancholic manner. “You know what’s strange? We never really got your ages either, and we’ve been traveling together for a while now.”

Alphonse laughed as he nodded, conceding to her point. From somewhere else in the establishment, they heard someone erupt into violent coughs. Alphonse waited until it passed before continuing. “I suppose that’s true. We never really told you, and we never thought to, either.”

“I guess not,” Edward agreed. “It just didn’t seem all that important, and honestly, it doesn’t still. But if you want to know, I’m only a year younger than Bish, actually. And Alphonse is actually a year younger than you, Lupin.”

“…huh.”

“What?”

“Didn’t see you as being older than me,” Lupin quipped with a teasing grin. She shared a quasi-conspiratorial look with Bish, who was fighting—and failing fantastically—to contain the smirk that was just barely peeking out from the corners of her lips. “I mean, with the way you act versus your brother, I would have had you pegged as younger than him.”

This earned a poorly hid smile from Alphonse and short-lived shocked vexation choked back any proper response from Edward for several belated seconds. His cheeks began to redden after those first few seconds passed them by, flashes of annoyance steadily growing more solid within his golden eyes.

Alphonse reached over and gripped Edward’s shoulder, stifling any protests he might have had on his lips with a stern squeeze. “Easy, brother. Let’s try not to start any scenes while we’re in public.” Another meaningful squeeze as he added, “Please.”

The struggle to let loose his indignant comments warred with his brother’s reasoning as Edward scanned the establishment. Edward turned his irate gaze back toward his brother, lips pursing tightly before he leaned back in his seat, thinly veiled irritation written plainly across his face.

“Fine. But I’ll have words about this later.”

Lupin could barely contain the snort that bubbled up, earning her another tart look from Edward. Alphonse glanced at her with reproach and she sheepishly quieted down, somewhat abashed at having goaded Edward. Bish nudged her lightly.

“C’mon. Let’s finish eating and get back out there. We still have a couple of hours to kill before it gets dark.”

They cleaned up the rest of their meal, making small talk in between bites and plans for the rest of their day. Bish bemoaned the heat and the muggy quality of the air, almost making her pine for the simple dry heat that southern California was most famous for.

Almost.

But back into the midday heat they went, braving the crowds in search of whatever else they desired. They came across a small group from the _Pearl_ , and stopped to chat—although it was clear from the crew’s distracted attentions that they had been preoccupied with something else. They parted ways fairly quickly, although a few of them managed to shout back at the four to remember to be back at the _Black Pearl_ in three days’ time—or so that was the word that they had received from the captain.

“And here I thought we’d be here for a little longer,” Bish lamented with a sigh.

“Guess word changed up,” Edward replied, watching the backsides of the men disappear into the crowd. He scanned the area, frowning. Quite enough could happen in a week’s time, never mind three. Hopefully, this rest stop would be as uneventful as their stay in Cádiz. He took pause at that thought as his eyes swept back toward his little group, gliding over his brother, Bish, and then lingered on Lupin.

He suppressed the urge to exhale loudly and at length at the sight of her as he corrected himself. The black eye and split lip were gone, for the most part, but it could have been worse. She had been lucky that that was all she had walked away with, and grudgingly, he’d admit that he was glad Jack intervened when he had. Lupin would have luckier still if nothing had happened to her at all, though.

Their stop in Cádiz it had been _almost_ uneventful. He amended that wishful thought, hoping that nothing of further prominence would cross their paths, at all, during their tenure in Tripoli.  

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

There was never a shortage of seedy pubs, bars, brothels, and more in a place like Tripoli. It was no Tortuga, true enough, but it was enough for Jack. Enough to be considered a faint reminiscent of a home-away-from-home for the time being and that was all he needed. The hours passed, and the drinks kept coming, as did most of the patrons. Some stayed for hours, like him, while others have been here for much longer than he, and Jack didn’t doubt that they’d stay longer, and if not, then they’d be back to give their patronage to the establishment by next day’s sun rise.

Tripoli continued to boom around the seedy pub, even into the wee hours of the evening as the sun bade the city a last farewell before disappearing over the watery horizon beyond. The candles and lanterns were lit, giving the greasy place a warm orange glow—although it did not come even close to the homely aspect that his favourite pub back in Tortuga could achieve, but again it would do for now. The little flickers of flame ate away at oil and wax, and the crowd did little to dwindle its numbers. If anything, the numbers increased, adding to the bawdy atmosphere.

Somewhere within the tavern’s depths, someone struck up a jaunty little shanty in English, accompanied by a set of instruments. Others joined in, drunkenly singing in their native tongues to the tune with slurred tongues and sloshing drinks.

That was when he appeared, right out of the tapestry of the crowds. One moment, the seat before Jack was empty, then the next, a man slid into the bench without fanfare or announcement, like a spirit from the veil. The man pushed a fresh tankard of rum towards Jack, tipped his hatted head while raising his own and Jack returned the salute by picking the delivered drink up and clinking it to his companion’s.

“’ello, Dad.”

“Jackie boy.”

“Glad to see you doin’ well.”

“Hmm. And you. Though, word on the wind says otherwise.”

The older gent eyed Jack for a brief moment, then shrugged and tipped his tankard back for another gulp of his beverage. When he sat it back down, he was to the point.

“This isn’t a social call. Certainly not because you missed yer old man.”

“True,” Jack replied glibly, the urge to smile coming and going like a summer breeze. “I came for information, which word on the wind says you might have.”

“Does it, now?”

“It does indeed.”

The older pirate mulled over this, taking his time as he picked his tankard to swirl the contents of his drink around, slow and deliberate.

“And what information would that be, Jackie boy? What is it that the great Captain Jack Sparrow can’t weasel out hisself that he had to end up tracking down his old man fer?”

Jack leaned closer across the expanse of the small table. His father watched with further curiousity, although he didn’t join in the huddle. “I’m in a bit of a bind with time, and I need information on a key.”

“Get to a locksmith. Why waste my time?”

“Not just any key,” Jack explained, and the lights in Captain Teague’s eyes grew a little brighter.

“Oh?”

“It’s a key that unlocks a chest.”

“Again…why waste my time with this endeavor? If you have the chest, take it to a locksmith.”

“I stress the point that it’s not an ordinary key, nor is it a key that has been seen for centuries, because nobody knows what it looks like or where it is…except for the rumour in which I am chasing stating otherwise.”

“Ah. And you think I have such lofty information, do ye?”

“I do indeed. The key in question to the chest I’m also endeavoring to locate belongs to none other than Davy Jones.”

For all the noise in the tavern and the city around them, it grew cold and silent around the two pirates. Teague didn’t answer Jack for the longest time. He simply sat in his seat, looking like a very large cat debating whether it’d be worth the effort to pounce on Jack and end him then and there, all things considered.

“What have you done, Jackie boy?”

Jack canted his head to the side, taking in the sight of the man across from him: the lavish red coat pressed with gold laurels on the cuffs, the splendid undercoat lovingly infused with intricate designs of gold and silver and copper inlay, the colourful sash at his waist beneath the well worn leather belt and its great buckle, the incredible feathered hat that donned his head, the baubles and trinkets laced within his hair and beard…

A grand-looking pirate captain if he ever saw one. And indeed, a good part of his boyhood had been spent looking up to this man, before he resolved to carve his own path. Looking at his father now, however, reminded Jack that a small part of himself, hidden well and deep within, still held a reverent respect for Captain Teague.

But respect could only go so far before it began treading into the waters of blind devotion.

“Nothing of much importance fer anyone to worry about ‘cept fer myself,” he replied at last, wagging a dismissive hand in the air. His father’s dark eyes bored into him, never blinking, careful and shrewd. They were the eyes of a man who had seen much, was surprised by very little, and would relinquish very little about what they had seen. They hadn’t changed much since Jack had been a child, he noticed.

Vaguely, Jack was aware of the tavern’s tune changing melody, of the singers easing into another raunchy song, but it was distant and tinny to his ears. Inconsequential. Nothing of importance.

Captain Teague’s piercing gaze did little to alleviate his inner turmoil, but eventually, the older man digressed, leaning back into a more relaxing pose of indifference. A hollow gesture, Jack recognized it as.

“Whatever it is you’ve done, boy, I hope it was worth all this trouble yer trailin’ after.”

“Isn’t it always?” Jack glibly replied, flashing a wane smile in his father’s direction.

Captain Teague huffed, a sound that was almost a laugh. His craggy face softened, ever so slightly.

“I’ve heard of a prisoner who recently achieved a lofty li’l cell in a Turkish prison, aye. Rumours state his secrets got secrets, but nothing’s confirmed until someone can talk to the man, face-to-face. An’ it’s not gettin’ in that’s the hard part…”

“It’s getting out,” Jack finished, to which his father nodded.

“Aye. But even that can be relatively easy, if one knows how.”

“An’ I suppose you know how?”

“Aye. You could say that.”

Jack felt a twinge of a tight-lipped smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he studied his father. He broke contact as he picked up his tankard and splashed back a long draft of rum. He felt a surge of heady warmth spread throughout his body as it scorched its way down to his core, spreading out to his limbs. He put the tankard back down with a thud, eyes sparking with mirth.

“Tell me more.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The quaint inn was bustling with more activity when they returned in the evening, sore and tired from all the walking. People of various colours and creeds mingled together as they dined and drank together. The dish of the night seemed to be what everyone else had: a mug of ale served with darkly coloured rye bread and a wedge of cheese, and a thick fishy chowder. Bish peeled her lips back as she sniffed the concoction delicately with a borderline frown.

“I don’t think we’re getting anything better tonight, are we?”

“Probably not here, no,” Edward offered with a half-hearted shrug. He eyed his bowl for a moment before taking a test taste. He took a moment to savour it before swallowing with another small shrug. “It’s not as bad as it smells, but you should probably just stomach what you can.”

“Says the guy who has a stomach made of steel,” Lupin sighed back as she stirred her spoon in the bowl.

“Oh, shut it, you picky thing. Just pretend it’s sushi.”

Bish snickered at the deadpan look on Edward’s face before she took the first dive and stole away a spoonful of chowder into her mouth. She bobbed her head back and forth.

“He’s right. Not so bad. Now eat, woman. I command you.”

“You’re not my food supervisor,” Lupin grumbled back, but she smiled wryly at her friend all the same and tucked into her food. They talked and ate the rest of their meals over the next hour, listening as music wafted in through from a small score of musicians out in the square beyond. They paid their tabs and decided to turn in for the night.

“I’d stick around longer, but I really don’t want to. My feet hurt,” Bish declared. Lupin nodded sympathetically.

“Same. Lots of moseying around done today, lots more to do tomorrow.”

“Says the woman who didn’t even really get anything except for food.”

“Hey, don’t pressure me into spending all my money! I don’t have that much to begin with!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

They bid one another good night as they broke off and the girls disappeared into their room. Edward paused at his and his brother’s room, drumming his fingers on the knob. Alphonse paused, staring at his brother expectantly.

“Ya know,” Edward started, slowly taking his hand away. “I’m not really feeling all that tired.”

“Really?” Alphonse drawled back, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “I couldn’t tell, with your lack of enthusiasm throughout the day.”

“A lot of things we’re used to aren’t around anymore. So sorry to disappoint you with my ‘lack of enthusiasm’.” Edward retorted, although he returned the grin his brother sported. “I saw some guys playing cards downstairs. I think I’d like to get in on the game.”

“Brother, no.”

“What? Just a few games, then I’ll be up.”

“Right, a few games of what, cheating them completely out of their money?”

“Who said I would cheat? I would never,” Edward replied, placing a hand over his heart. “The nerve you have to accuse me of cheating!”

Alphonse blinked slowly once, but his stare was otherwise unwavering as he watched his older brother through a half-lidded gaze. Edward kept his grin in place. “Just a few games, Al. No harm in getting a little extra money on the side, is there? Not like we’re getting any more out of Jack anytime soon.”

Alphonse sighed, breaking eye contact with his brother as he shook his head. “Then I better come too, in case your ego gets the better of you and you slip up.”

“I don’t ‘slip up’,” Edward scoffed back, derisive and partly offended at the insinuation that he needed a babysitter.

“Just a few games,” Alphonse reminded him, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Edward felt himself returning the grin before long, confidence beginning to spread warmly in his chest.

“I only need a few games to clean them all out. Just watch me.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Morning spread across the city early, soft and slow, with the remnants of the cool evening breeze skirling through the streets. It wasn’t long, however, before the heat began to swelter. Before the sun had risen above the tallest masts of the largest ships, heat waves shimmered and danced in the distance. The various marketplaces and vendor stands were open, their owners hawking their wares.

A young girl was wheeling a small cart past the inn, her voice carrying through the wane of the crowds as she cried her wares of oysters, clams and cockles. Lupin was squeezing her eyes shut as the mantra outside continued, rubbing at the back of her neck and head. Bish kept glancing at the other woman from the corner of her eye, taking a small taste test of the morning gruel set before her.

“Something wrong?” She drawled, raising a brow. Lupin grunted back.

“That bed is fucking horrible. I’d rather sleep in a hammock.”

“Because that’s so much better for your back.”

“Not really, I’m just used to it.”

“True,” Bish conceded with a nod of her head. “Sorry to hear you’re not doing so hot right now.”

Lupin took a deep breath and opened her eyes, stared at her own food, and then took a small bite. She winced and muttered something about it not being sweet enough before answering, “Yeah, me too.”

They sat in companionable silence, tucking away into their modest meal for the next ten minutes. Bish kept throwing looks over her shoulder toward the corner where the staircase to the inn above led. Lupin mimicked her every once in a while, frowning.

 

“Wonder where the guys are…”

Right as she spoke, Edward and Alphonse appeared.

“There they are.”

“I can see, thank you.”

Bish nudged her friend before waving to the brothers, who nodded in return and began making their way over. They slid into the bench across from the two women, flagging the hostess down for their order as they did.

“Whoa. What’s with you guys? You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Edward griped back at Bish. She raised a brow at him, lips puckering ever so slightly. He sighed heavily through his nose, closing his eyes. “We stayed up a bit later than we had intended. Nothing too serious.”

A wry smile tugged at Alphonse’s lips, although Edward kept his face straight.

“Doing what, exactly?” Lupin pressed, her tone hiked with interest. Edward exchanged a look with his brother, then dipped a hand beneath his vest. He pulled it away, just enough to reveal a leather pouch gripped tightly in it. It sagged heavily and clinked when it moved. Edward grinned broadly.

“Let’s just say, making a bit more money than what we had started out with.”

“Holy fuck knuckles, how’d you manage that!” Bish hissed excitedly in a low whisper. Lupin’s eyes went wide, mesmerized.

“Like I said, we stayed up a lot later than we had planned, but it was worth it. Now we can get afford to get a few extra luxuries before we take off.” Edward’s smile waned, but a spark in his eyes remained as he tucked away the pouch, safe and sound and out of sight. His comment, however, made Lupin and Bishquet pause. They looked at one another, their enthralled smiles dropping instantly.

“Wait. You’re gonna share that with us?” Bish pressed tentatively, raising her brows at the pair across from her dubiously.

“We’re not going to share it with Jack or the rest of the crew. Might as well share a little bit with someone.”

“Yeah, but…are you sure?” Lupin inquired, as though she was expecting for them to agree that it was a joke.

“Of course we’re sure. We already decided. Besides, we didn’t get paid all that much to begin with,” Alphonse said reassuringly as he beamed at the two women across from him. Lupin and Bish shared a look, tentative and dubious. Before either of them could inquire anything further, the inn hostess came along, bearing the brothers’ meals and drinks. The conversation was dropped for the time being, as they all silently agreed until they had finished their meals. By the time they stepped outside, the heatwave was well underway.

Bish whined quietly under her breath, bemoaning about it to herself as they pressed back into the city’s folds once again.

“So, where to first?” Edward inquired. There was a long pause, and as it stretched on, Lupin stole a glance at the others, and found them all looking at her. She blinked then balked in surprise.

“Wait, what? You’re asking me?”

“The only one who hasn’t gotten anything is you,” Bishquet reminded. “I got most of the things I needed for myself to make life bearable on the Pearl. It’s your turn.”

Lupin felt as though her throat was squeezing shut at the expectant stares boring into her. She fought to swallow past the hard lump in her throat.

“I…I’m good, really—ow! Motherfucking tits, woman!” The smaller woman squawked, holding her offended side where Bishquet had jabbed it with her finger.

“Stop with the bullshit, sweetie, and just lead the way. They’re offering to help you out, just take it, don’t leave it.”

Lupin’s mouth effectively wired itself shut in protest, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end and a warmth spreading to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the midmorning heat. She cast her eyes down and grumbled, before jerking her head to the side. “This way…”

Bish offered a sweet smile to her friend, swooping in to link her arm through Lupin’s. “See, was that so hard?”

“You have no idea how hard it was. My pride is forever wounded at having to stoop so low as to accept financial help.”

“Dude, seriously. Tone down the drama, it’s not like you’re the one twisting their arms for the money. They’re offering it if you need it.”

“We can hear you,” Edward piped up, to which Bish merely replied while beaming back, “I know. That’s why I said it.”

Lupin sighed, appearing unconvinced. “I’m using my money first, just so you know,” she said over her shoulder.

“That’s fine.” Alphonse replied with a nod. “Just let us know if you need anything extra.”

Lupin sighed again, before stifling it when Bish gave her another soft jab in the side. “No more pouting. We got another day or two on dry land before we’re back to our isolation at sea, so smile a little. I know you’ve been missing it as much as me. Maybe not as much, but still. My point stands.”

The smaller woman snorted, but grinned nonetheless, knowing her friend was right. For now, there wasn’t any need to be acting down in the dumps. They had a little freedom for a little longer. As long as they stuck together, there was little that came to mind that could go wrong.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“Are you sure this is where we need to head for?”

“Of course I’m sure, mate.”

“And what, pray tell, is there all the way in…the Ottoman Empire?”

“A lead.”

“A lead for what?”

“That, Mr. Gibbs, is none of yer concern for now.” Jack leaned back with barely a twitch of the mouth, taking in the growing annoyance that was spreading across Gibbs’ face. The tavern that they had chosen for their locality was quiet this time of day; not very many ears were around to eavesdrop. Just the way Jack preferred it. “Mr. Gibbs.”

Exasperated or not, Gibbs replied all the same, although not for lack of trying to keep the tone from his voice. “What is it?”

“D’ye know the saying, ‘everything happens for a reason’?”

“Aye, I may have heard of it, or some version or another. Why?”

“I don’t think it’s true. Nothing happens for a reason. I believe,” Jack leaned in a bit closer, mostly in order to bring his tankard to his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before he continued. “It’s all chaos. Things happen because things happen. Nothing is by design. But it sometimes makes one feel better to believe that things happen for a reason, aye?”

“Where’re you going with this, Jack?”

“Where I am going with this is, is that we have faced much adversity in a small span of time. A bit dreary to think about, if you do that is. Me escapin’ the noose by the skin of me teeth—”

“And with the help of Turner and Miss Elizabeth,” Gibbs pointed out, to which Jack sneered only slightly at the reminder. The host was passing them by, lighting the wicks of all the candles and lanterns in preparation for the coming night. The shadows outside were growing long and cold as the sun sank away from sight beyond.

“I would say by Norrington’s stupidity in giving me, the man with the fastest ship in the Caribbean, a day’s head start, but I won’t nitpick…”

“Of course you won’t.”

“Then there was the sinking of Isla de Muerta.”

Gibbs grumbled under his breath about lost opportunities and wealth bitterly.

“Of course, we also lost Annamaria…”

“You had to scrape up what little you had t’ buy her a new boat after the one you promised t’ her was blown to bits.”

“It sank, what more could I do? I was trapped in me own ship’s brig, no thanks to Barbossa.”

Gibbs chewed on that thought for a moment, before grudgingly conceding to Jack’s point with a bob of his head.

“I would also qualify that hurricane as a random anomaly to contend with,” Jack continued, twirling his hand in a motion to keep the conversation’s momentum moving. “And what came out of it as a result.”

“Aye, a bit odd.” Gibbs remarked softly, furrowing his brow as he thought on it. “Our newest crew members are a strange lot.”

“That they are,” Jack agreed. The buzz and hum of the outside was beginning to stir as the night life slowly awoke. It was a different beast to contend with compared to the day life.

“There is one thing you’re missing,” the older gent reminded Jack, to which the captain quirked a brow.

“Oh? And what’s that?” Jack took a long swig of his beverage, draining the last dregs of it down his gullet. He set the tankard back down, flagged the host for another, and turned back to Gibbs. The older man had his weather-stained face set like stone, eyes like bits of flint as he stared Jack down with unusual seriousness.

“There is the last bit about us being hunted like mangy curs.”

“We’re pirates, mate. Occupational hazard.”

“You know what I mean. Norrington was hot on our trail and has been since Port Royal. We know he’s been seen right off the coast of Spain, which spurred our impromptu departure in the first place.” The older pirate muttered darkly, fixating Jack with a heavy gaze. The host came back with a fresh tankard for Jack, who took to the distraction of his drink with fervor, ignoring the pointed look sent his way.

“I’m serious, Jack. If Norrington is willing to go to these extreme lengths to hunt us down, we’re in a lot more trouble than we thought.”

“I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Gibbs. That bloody git isn’t going t’ find us.” Jack grinned, but it fell just as quickly as a familiar sound came drifting closer. Jack and Gibbs alike fell quiet, as did most of the tavern they were in, all ears straining to listen. Shouts. Orders. Sharp clicks of smartly dressed feet coming down the streets. The rattle of muskets and bayonets. An all too familiar series of sounds.

Most of the tavern’s occupants exchanged looks with one another, confusion clearly written upon their faces. Gibbs only looked to Jack, his expression sharp as he regarded the man sitting across from him. Jack’s smile had not returned, and instead his brow had furrowed beneath his bandanna, his lips twitching at one corner in dissatisfaction and annoyance.

“…bugger.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

There was a sudden shift in the tone of the city. Everything and everyone felt edgy and drawn taut like a bowstring, refusing to unwind or release. It was worrisome, to put it lightly, to see the unconscionable effect it had on the city, as though it had passed from person to person like a plague. Bish felt herself drawing tight into herself as well without realizing it, hugging herself as they passed by a couple hurrying past them in the opposite direction, scurrying as fast as their legs could carry them. They ducked away around the corner of the street, disappearing from sight.

“Something’s wrong. It’s like everyone’s suddenly got a curfew or something.”

“Maybe they do,” Edward remarked, uncertainty painting his tone. He frowned at the idea, however, looking unconvinced. Even he was feeling the jitteriness get to him, it seemed. Bish couldn’t blame him. “We should probably hurry back, just in case.”

“The _Pearl_ ’s closer, isn’t it?” Lupin asked, nodding down toward a fork in the streets that led to the docks. “Maybe we should back head there. I don’t think we should hang out on the streets any longer than necessary.”

There was little deliberation between them. In fact, they never got a chance to. Curling around the corner of the street, just down the way that led to the docks, a squad of smartly dressed men came marching. Their coats were bright red, the shirts beneath a crisp white, as were their trousers, while their black shoes clicked sharply on the cobbled road as they came forward. Muskets mounted with bayonets were held in hand, their trained eyes ahead. At the head of their squad was an officer, dressed in a coat of deep royal blue, gold, and white, donning a tricorn with a white wig that looked as militant as the man who bore it. He was composed and proud as he marched with his men, each knowing what their mission was.

Bish felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight. Lupin had to contain a strangled yelp as they moved out of the way of the oncoming squad. A hand found her arm and held her firmly, reassuring in its touch. Bish startled only slightly, finding Lupin pressing in tight to her. Bishquet’s throat went dry, her tongue feeling like sandpaper in her mouth while her heart thundered away in her chest and her stomach dropped away.

Edward and Alphonse planted themselves in front of her and Lupin, and while a part of her wanted to be offended, another part of her was glad. Sparing a glance at her friend, it probably wouldn’t have been a good thing if Lupin was seen full-on glaring at the man heading the squad approaching.

“It’s Norrington,” Lupin managed to whisper, confirming Bish’s suspicions. The hand on her arm tightened. “ _He found us_.”

The squad was turning down the street they had just come from, with Norrington still at their head. At the back of the squad was another set of blue, gold, and white-clad officers, marching at the same smart pace as the others. They too vanished with the rest of the lobster-red men, and soon the sounds of their collective footsteps faded in the distance. They didn’t relax until the men disappeared from sight. They barely breathed. The spell was only broken when Edward turned to them and motioned with a jerk of his head toward the docks.

“We’ve got to get out of here before they come back.”

Without another word, the four made their way toward the docks and hurried along to find the _Pearl_. Night was falling fast, but they could make out the silhouettes of a fleet of new ships in the harbour; Norrington’s ships. And there were more of Norrington’s men swarming the docks and wharfs, questioning those still at their stalls or in their storefronts, ducking into streets, harassing those on the streets. They managed to duck the gazes of the naval men, but as they drew closer to where the _Pearl_ was berthed, the more Bish felt her stomach slithering lower in her abdomen. She couldn’t spot the familiar black sails or charred hide of the ship. When they came to the branch of dock that they had last seen the _Pearl_ at, her growing dread came to full fruition. There was nothing.

The _Black Pearl_ was gone.

They’d been left behind.

“They…they’re gone. They left us,” Bishquet felt herself croak out, her throat constricting. That was it. That had been their last chance, their only chance, at making it home. The sun was nearly gone, over the horizon beyond, and with it the light. And just like the light, her hope at seeing her family, and Lupin seeing hers, was disappearing rapidly.

“No,” Lupin said, her voice tinny and soft. “No, no, they…they couldn’t have. Jack wouldn’t have left us, he wouldn’t—”

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to convince yourself that Jack was more than he really was.” Edward said sharply. “He left us behind, and now we’ve got to find our own way. But first, we should head back. Get off the streets before someone tries to flag us down.”

Bish expected Lupin to rant and rave. She expected her friend to retaliate, to fire back about Jack’s character. Instead, Lupin surprised Bish by staying silent. In following after Edward as he took the lead back the way they had come. Alphonse fell into step beside her, his upper arm brushing against her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Bish replied earnestly. “I’m not okay. How—how could he _do_ that to us?”

“Because they’re pirates,” Edward growled. “They don’t care about us. They never did.”

Lupin still remained quiet. She didn’t know what was going through her friend’s head, and that scared her a little. She was swallowing down whatever insults she felt like hurling, was going to let it build and fester over time. It wasn’t her most admirable trait, but it was a beauty to behold when one could look at it from the sidelines.

Just before they made it back into the streets, they were intercepted by a pair of naval sailors, their bright red uniforms making it impossible to miss them. They blocked their path back into the city.

“Halt! We have a few questions for you!”

One of them whipped out a piece of parchment with blocky print on its surface, and a drawing in the likeness of one Captain Jack Sparrow on it as well, front and center. The two men stared them down. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen this man here in Tripoli, would you?”

“There’d be a nice reward in it for you if you have,” the other added. Bish wasn’t sure if they were trying to be threatening or enticing. They all shook their heads.

“You sure about that?” The one holding the parchment up. “Take a good look. This _pirate_ ,” he spat out the word ‘ _pirate’_ , as though it were a filthy word he hated using, “is a dangerous individual, as are the men in his crew.”

“Sorry. We haven’t seen anyone who looks like him. We’re just trying to get back home.”

“And where’s home?”

“Not here in the middle of the street,” Edward continued sharply. The two men narrowed their eyes at him. Bish felt a swell of panic coming to wash over her.

“What he means is, we’re just here for a few days while our ship restocks on supplies,” she blurted. She felt their eyes swivel on her, take in her attire, felt the judgement crawl over her skin like a thousand spiders. She resisted the urge to squirm, as strong as it was. Instead, she forced herself to smile oh-so-sweetly at them.

“And what ship is that?”

“ _The Grey Lady_ ,” Lupin chipped in, nodding her head back toward the wharfs at the far end of the bay. “We’ve been held up a bit while we flushed out an infestation of rats, but we should be going by the end of the week, if you fine men don’t hold up our crew and schedule.”

The two men deliberated on this information, before they stepped out of their path with a few nods. “Don’t let us keep you, then. Gentlemen. Ladies. Have a nice night.”

“And a safe passage,” the other added with an amiable smile. They took off back down the length of the docks, like hounds on the hunt. Bish let out a long, slow breath of relief as they kept their backs to the four of them, without so much as a look over their shoulders. She cleared her throat.

“We should get going,” she said, surprised her voice didn’t crack in half when she spoke.

“The sooner, the better,” Alphonse agreed. Night had fallen upon them. Bish shivered as they moved back into the safety of the city’s streets, surrounded on either side by buildings. The Hispanic woman glanced at the parcels in her hands, then at the messenger bag Lupin was touting; perhaps the only thing that cost enough to count as a splurge. She reached forward and tapped Lupin on the shoulder. The other woman jumped, but calmed when she saw her waving.

“Can I put these in your bag, sweetie?”

Lupin nodded, stopping momentarily to lift the flap of her bag up, and push aside the items inside: a leather-bound sketchbook, a set of charcoal pencils, a quill and inkwell, a few strips of leather for her hair, and a tin of kohl. Lupin waited as Bish carefully positioned her things into the bag, but did nothing when Bish was done.

“Hun?”

At first, the other woman didn’t answer. She just stared down the alleyway with an intense and focused stare.

“I thought I saw…hold on,” she finally said, albeit with a distantly absent tone to her voice. Lupin took off down a tight little alley at a trot without another word.

“Hey, wait, Lupin—shit!”

“Lupin!”

She didn’t heed them. Instead, she kept going, slowing only halfway through, gazing up and down the way. Bish could see her friend frowning, looking ready to turn back toward them, but she stopped and yelped with glee before it came to that. She turned back over her shoulder, motioning for the three of them to join her. Slowly, they looked to one another before filing down the alleyway to meet with her. They weren’t even halfway down when they heard a loud screech. Lupin was standing at the threshold of a door that led into the back what looked like a storage house, with Mr. Cotton and his parrot barring the way inside.

The old man peeked his head out to glance at their approach before ducking back inside. Inside, Marty, Seamus, Ho-Kwan, Ladbroc, and Tearlach were all huddled together, shrouded in an air of discontent.

“What the hell is going on? We thought you guys took off with the _Pearl_.”

“Well, we obviously didn’t.”

“Did Jack go off by himself?” Alphonse asked, incredulous at the idea himself, but it sounded as though he felt he had to ask regardless.

“Pah. Even he couldn’t sail the _Pearl_ himself,” Marty scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest with an extra huff, his countenance pinched in a scowl. The others grumbled off their own dissenting comments on the matter, all the while appearing disheartened at their situation: the loss of their ship, being abandoned, the British Royal Navy right on top of them. It was a shit sandwich on top of a shit storm, all right.

“Then where did the ship _go_?” Bish asked, to which she was given a series of blank stares and listless shrugs.

“The fuck if we know,” Seamus spat, breaking eye contact with her first. Tearlach stirred beside the young man, clapping his shoulder sympathetically.

“We was on our way back when we saw th’ _Pearl_ gone. Managed t’ get out of sight before them damn cocksuckers showed their ugly mugs on shore and began harrassin’ everyone an’ their mums.” Ladbroc growled. “Whoever took th’ _Pearl_ is long gone by now.”

Worry continued to worm its way through Bishquet, digging deeper and deeper until it made her feel physically sick. She tasted bile at the back of her throat and it burned. The one small sliver of a consolation in this whole mess was that she, Lupin, Edward and Alphonse weren’t the only ones who had been left behind. But it barely qualified as a comfort. Now they were _all_ in trouble, rather than just the four of them.

“What do we do now?” Lupin softly asked when no one else said anything.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Ho-Kwan retorted, with enough venom in his voice to down a bull elephant. He kept his gaze trained on the ground as he spoke.

“Those men out there—they’re from the Royal Navy?” Alphonse queried. A round of grumbles and scoffs responded back.

“His Majesty’s finest,” Marty remarked in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes.

“Did you lot see how many ships?” Tearlach turned to look at the two women.

“About three ships. Two brigs, one warship.” Lupin replied.

“That warship’s the _HMS Dauntless_ ,” Marty said, his brow creasing with worry. “But Norrington had more ships than that. Either he’s got them hiding somewhere else…”

“Or he lost them in the hurricane back in the Atlantic,” Ho-Kwan finished, looking momentarily hopeful.

“Is Norrington in charge?” Edward asked. The others nodded.

“Aye, that he is, an’ a royal pain in th’ arse,” Tearlach spat on the ground with a scowl. He opened his mouth to spout off another spiteful comment, but clamped it shut almost immediately at the sounds of shouts—orders, it sounded like—and the rhythmic pounding of feet charging down the street. Everyone held still and held their breathes, not relaxing until the sounds passed them by and disappeared.

“We need to move. It’ll only be a matter of time before they find us,” Edward stated. The rest of the Pearl’s crew did not look enthused at taking orders at him, nor did they look compelled to move.

“That’s fine and dandy for you, Norrington doesn’t know your faces.”

“Aye, he’s right,” Seamus nodded, his countenance envious as he looked at Edward, then Alphonse, and lastly Bishquet and Lupin. “We’re known and wanted. You lot ‘aven’t got yer faces on posters, calling for a noose ‘round yer necks like us.”

“He has a point,” Lupin muttered. Bish nodded in agreement. “But we should still find some way to get you some place they won’t look or get to.”

“We’re not moving until things have died down a bit more.” Ladbroc retorted stubbornly. Bish sighed at the comment. Of course they weren’t going to move.

“Hopefully you guys will have a plan by then on getting out of here.”   

“Any port in the storm!” Mr. Cotton’s parrot squawked. The old man flinched at the screeches in his ear, and with a shaky hand, reached up to pat the colourful parrot. The macaw trilled softly, flipping his head over to allow Mr. Cotton to scratch him.

“Cotton’s right. We should find the next ship out of here as soon as possible.” Seamus glanced over everyone’s faces and added darkly, “Before we’re all hung from the gallows.”

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


	16. Going Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own the anime/manga Fullmetal Alchemist. It and all its respectable characters are © to Hiromu Arakawa. I also do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. It is © to Disney and Buena Vista Films. However, all writing contents and semi-plots here are © to me; unless it is stated otherwise. I belong to myself, and Bishquet, my lovely friend here belongs to herself. All shows/ books/ video games/ songs that are mentioned in this chapter are all © to their respective owners, I do not own them.**
> 
> **Notes: [8 Apr 2018] Yo! Sorry for the wait, y’all. I just wanted to let it be known that I did a purge of all the older chapters. I have all my old chapters on my hard drive, but I feel kind of trapped with this story when I look at the old chapters and the old chapter titles. A huge chunk of them were going to be deleted regardless, but this was a bit freeing. I apologize to anyone who wanted to read them. They will be revised in the future, so don’t fret too much!**
> 
> **On another note, even though it’s my birthday today, I’m giving y’all a present instead. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

_“If I'm going down, I'm taking everybody with me!”  
_ **-Chandler Bing, “ _Friends_ ”   
**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

“You knew who Norrington was the second you saw him.” It was a statement, not a question. A confirmation of what he already knew. Lupin knew she couldn’t lie to Edward. He wouldn’t be fooled, not now, not even if she tried. And she even thought about it for more than just a moment, actually considered trying to lie to him. Her gut twisted at the idea, however, and instead ended up nodding in confirmation.

“His name popped up several times in history books I read in regards to this era,” she started off with, choosing her words with care. “Ever since he first crossed paths with Jack, he was obsessed with hunting him down. But Norrington sort of…fades away without anyone really knowing how or why.”

It was a half-truth, at the very least. She didn’t want to reveal too much, but she didn’t want to leave him completely in the dark, either.

“What I know is that he was a Commodore and he had a fleet of ships at his disposal but he…he lost it all.” She paused, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she remembered just how he lost his commission. “He lost it…after he tried chasing Jack into a hurricane off the shores of Tripoli. That’s when he kind of fades into obscurity. Not much more elaboration was made on him after that.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, her breath hitched painfully inside her chest. It was coming back to her: a vision of Norrington, still clad in his military uniform—clinging to the dirtied, soiled rags on his body, pining for the cushy life he once had—and donning his tangled white and dirtied wig, lamenting his lost ships, his lost commission…

All thanks to a hurricane off the shores of Tripoli.

She couldn’t remember if the horizon had been darkening with just night or with storm clouds before the sun had set earlier that day.

Edward stopped in his tracks as he stared at Lupin, who went on a few steps more before she too stopped alongside him. Bish paused as well, and Alphonse shortly halted next. Everyone’s eyes were locked on to her, wide with disbelief. A sudden chill swept along the air around them, cloaking them all like the fog that was beginning to coat the streets. Edward was the first to break away as he began marching down the street, leading the way back toward the inn they had been staying at the last few nights.

“If there’s a storm coming, we need to get to shelter.”

“Wait, what about the rest of the crew?”

“What about them?” He called over his shoulder.

“The ship isn’t at the docks, fine—but what if it isn’t gone? What if the _Pearl_ was moved, just out of sight of Norrington and his fleet?”

“How do you figure that?”

“Marty said it himself: even Jack can’t sail the _Black Pearl_ by himself. He would need the whole crew to get it out of here.”

“Then how would he get it out of here?” Alphonse queried, and at that, Lupin snapped her mouth shut, her cheeks heating up. Embarrassment filled her, hot and quick, as she drew a blank at the simple inquiry Alphonse presented. He was right; Jack couldn’t sail the _Pearl_ , no matter how much he may have wanted to. If Jack hadn’t moved the ship, then who did?

“I…I-I-I don’t…I don’t know.”

“You might not know the answer to that, girl, but I do.”

The intrusion of the new voice cutting into their conversation jolted all of them and they turned as one toward it. A silhouette of a figure came slinking into sight from the conclave of an alleyway’s shadows. Lupin felt a sudden thrill shriek through her at the sight of the newcomer. The broad and feathered hat, the great coat, the cutlass at the side, the jangling bits and baubles and trinkets woven into hair…

At first, she believed it to be Jack, but the voice was too soft and craggy, yet it was full of command…

Lupin felt her heart skip a beat as recognition fully sank in at last, while the others stared, flabbergasted.

“The Keeper of the Code,” she heard herself saying, “Captain Teague.”

The man tilted his head in acknowledgment toward her, the glitter of his eyes catching the light of a nearby lantern. The distant, tinny sound of authoratative shouts carried over the streets to them. Still far from them, but close enough to give them a chilling reminder that the invading forces were still there.

“Who in the hell in Captain Teague?” Edward hissed toward Lupin.

“And what’s a ‘Keeper of the Code’?” Alphonse echoed, fixating Lupin with a curious look. Bish sighed beside Lupin, answering the brothers before Lupin could.

“He’s a pirate.” Bish said, glancing at the older Elric from the corner of her eye.

“Of course he is,” Edward intoned flatly, annoyance colouring his tone. “But _who_ is he?”

“The Keeper of the Code,” Lupin said quietly, nodding her head toward the man and moving forward. “He is the keeper of the pirate code.”

“Pirates have codes, now?” Edward sounded incredulous. Lupin wanted to say more, even opened her mouth to do so, but Captain Teague interrupted her before she could begin.

“You lot are part o’ me boy’s crew, aye?” 

“Um…Jack?”

“That’s the one.” He nodded, his trinkets bobbing along. Lupin heard the others finally moving behind her, coming closer. Teague had something partially hidden by his side, but now he brought it forward: a burlap bag that was heavy and sagging. He tossed it toward Lupin, and she caught it, fumbled for a moment, steadied her new burden and felt its contents shift and separate, clink against one another.

“Yer things from the inn. Don’t worry yer pretty li’l heads, I don’t need none of yer effects. I have me own,” Teague rumbled, swiping a hand up to sweep back some of his deadlocks, smiling thinly. “I had the ship moved, a few miles  east outside of Tripoli proper. It’s going to buy you and Jackie-boy some time, but not much. I’d suggest ye hurry up. The Royal Navy is closin’ in an’ so’s something else.”

“Is it…is it a hurricane?” Lupin queried tentatively, and she had to fight to keep her voice steady, to not let it quake or quiver. Captain Teague eyed her for a long moment, saying nothing. When he nodded gravely in answer, Lupin felt her stomach plummet further down her abdomen.

“Aye. It will hit landfall afore the night’s out, I wager. Ye can smell it, that faint crackle o’ lightning, taste moisture in th’ air—it’s comin’. An’ ye’ll have a helluva time gettin’ ahead o’ it, even in the _Pearl_. Jackie-boy’s already on his way to the ship, an’ so’s some o’ th’ crew that I managed t’ find.” 

Which meant they had to hurry. _It only takes six to sail the ship_ , Lupin thought with sour dread settling in the pit of her stomach like a heavy ball of lead. Another series of shouts rang out like a death knell, this time closer, perhaps only a street or two over from where they were. Captain Teague noticed this as well, cocking his head to the side to listen, before he heaved a slow and long exhalation through his nose.

“Get going, ladies, gents. Jackie-boy’s goin’ t’ need all the help he can get.”

And just like that, he slid back into the dark, slinking away in silence. Not even the sound of his trinkets and baubles were discernable. The blanket of silence descended upon them once again, muffling everything else. The only sounds, jarring and loud in the wake of all else, were the barks of the Royal Navy men, screaming away their one and only goal in all of this: Find Jack Sparrow.

  **OoOoOoOoOoO**

Crossing the entire city of Tripoli was not a feasibly easy task. It seemed as though the men of the British Royal Navy was everywhere. The numbers of men the four had seen at the docks did not match up to the numbers that crawled through the streets. Most of the city was deserted; patrons, travelers, and citizens alike having sequestered themselves away from the prying nosiness of the Navy. The few brave citizens out and about were unmiffed by the presence of the authoritative force, giving the four some semblance of cover as they prowled closer towards the other end of the city.

They took to back streets and crooked alleyways as often as they could, trying to stay off the Navy’s radar. Bishquet was on pins and needles the entire time, walking upon eggshells with every step she took. She didn’t think her heart could keep up its pace, with the rate it was going at. A hundred miles per hour, it seemed like, and with little evidence that it would slow. Her hands were cold and clammy, and slick with sweat. Every few minutes, she would compulsively wipe them on her pants, afraid she’d need them later on and end up mucking things up because of that.

“Is there a way to get there faster?” She asked aloud, her voice just loud enough for the others to hear.

“Not like we can go steal a ride. There’s a glaringly obvious lack of cars parked on the curb,” Lupin replied in a glib tone, trying to sound light-hearted, but Bish could hear the quiver her friend’s voice. She found it in herself to respond with a light punch in the shoulder. Lupin yelped, jumping away from Bish, rubbing her arm in a dramatic fashion as she glared at her. Her faux-ire turned on Alphonse, when he let out a quiet laugh.

“So abusive. I need better friends.”

“ _‘Better friends’_? I am the bestest friend you are _ever_ gonna get and don’t you forget it.”

“Oh, my god. Really? _Really_? You’re going to quote at me _The Incredibles_?”

“Damn straight I am, and I stand by every word.”

“Of course you do. Guess I’m gonna have to wait on that new friend deal, huh?”

“Twelve years of it.”

“Oh, my _god_.”

“Hey! We need to focus on getting out of here, so how about we cut the chatter to a minimum? We need to try not to make a scene,” Edward interrupted. Bish narrowed her eyes at him.

“Rude.”

She exchanged a knowing look with Lupin, who stifled a laugh of her own. Alphonse offered a faint smile to them both, but there was also mild reproach in his eyes. He had enjoyed listening to the welcome distraction, but he agreed with his brother. They needed to focus.

“Sorry,” Lupin said, lowering her voice. Bish mumbled her own apology as well, falling silent.

The distraction was nice while it had lasted. Even if it had been only for a few moments, it was those few moments that she forgot about the hair-raising tension wrapped around her like razor wire. One taut tug and she’d probably fall apart.

 _God, fuck this shit. I just want to get home and not have to deal with this fucking bullshit_ , she thought, a spike of ice lancing down her spine like a bolt out of the blue, the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention straighter than any navyman. They paused at the mouth of an alleyway leading back into a main street vein, just as a small squadron of armed men marched past. They didn’t even so much as look in their direction, thankfully. It was so dark, they could barely make out the red or the blue of their uniforms. She doubted that she and the others were even visible without being purposefully sought for. Bish didn’t feel herself breath in relief until the sounds of their retreat were well underway.

Another sound began to drown them out, clattering closer to their location until it was rattling away in front of them: a cart filled with soft hay. The man driving the oxen-driven cart didn’t pay them any heed, either, but he looked just as nervous as they did. He was garbed in a thick, woolen cloak with the hood drawn down so low, Bish had to wonder how he saw anything beyond his own nose.

“Seamus!” 

Bish jumped at Alphonse’s voice cutting through the stillness. He was already taking off, trotting after the cart. The cart did not slow nor did it stop, but Alphonse doggedly tagged along. Lupin looked between Bish and Edward, the same querying look that she had and Edward did as well.

“I didn’t recognize him…”

“Me either—Al, hang on!” Edward cried out, giving chase after his younger brother. Bish groaned.

“I don’t think I can run.”

“If we’re in luck, you won’t have to for long. C’mon!” Lupin patted her on the shoulder, and despite the exhaustion that no doubt was encapsulating her friend—Bish knew she was bone-tired herself, there was no way Lupin had much more energy left either—she still somehow managed to scrape up enough fumes to keep moving and drag Bish along too. She reluctantly trotted at a slow pace right behind Lupin, who kept her own stride deliberately slow, even when Edward had already pulled ahead to eat up the distance between him and his brother. The cart, thankfully, was beginning to slow. The driver shifted in his seat, leaning closer towards Alphonse as he spoke. By some miracle, the cart finally came to a grinding halt, the oxen lowing softly and the wooden wheels creaked and groaned as they all complied. The man withdrew the hood of his cloak, and there, Bish could finally see the shaggy-haired Seamus for who he was.

How did Alphonse know?

That, unfortunately, was a mystery to solve for later.

Seamus smiled nervously from his perch on the cart bench as they all came trailing over to stand by the side of the cart. Lupin gave a wave, Edward a nod, and Bish offered a relieved smile. It fell quickly, however, at the sounds of rustling coming from the payload of hay sitting in the back of the cart. A hissing sound came forth, and at first, Bishquet thought it was a snake. Her first ideal reaction was to jump the fuck away and throw Lupin towards the problem; she’s dealt with snakes her whole life, owned them all her life. She could go play the game of poking at hay to find a snake. But Bish calmed seconds later when she realized how similar that hissing was to a human voice rather than a treacherous little snake.

“Seamus, boy—why’re we stopped?!”

Edward heard it as well and stepped around towards the back, lifting a chunk of the material up. Eyes and pale faces stared back at them all, wide and surprised.

“Edward?” A voice came from the upraised hole in the hay.

“Yes,” he replied patiently. A trilling squawk came forth next.

“Is that Cotton’s parrot?”

“Aye. He’s in here with that damned bird. Fuckin’ thing will give us away, if luck gives out beneath us when we pass a patrol.”

“Give him to me,” Lupin said, stepping forward to squeeze herself into view beside Edward. She held out her hands, thrusting them toward the hole. “I know how to handle birds. I grew up with them.”

“You have?” Edward blinked, staring at her. “You’ve never mentioned it.”

“I’m pretty sure I have. But we can talk about it later. Mister Cotton, please. Let me hold him for a little.”

There was a pregnant pause that bubbled forth and encapsulated them all, simply standing in the middle of the road, next to an oxen cart that was apparently full of pirates hiding in hay. It was a bizarre thing to think about outside of context, Bish recognized, once she actually thought about it. Slowly, a pair of weather-stained hands holding a large blue-and-gold macaw extended forward. The bird didn’t seem to mind being held as such, and calmly regarded Lupin as she held out her arm for the bird to grasp her with his feet. When he was settled, Mister Cotton’s hands withdrew back into the pit whence they came, and Lupin drew the bird closer to her, a hand placed protectively on his back. 

“I’ll take good care of your voice, don’t worry,” she reassured the old man, taking a step back. The macaw trilled softly, ruffling his feathers, but otherwise, looked quite content and much happier being out of the hay. Edward carefully let the hay settle back down, even fluffing it out enough so that it looked like it had not just been disturbed moments before.

“Hurry up, you lot. Who’s goin’ in the back, who’s sittin’ on the bench?” Seamus interrupted, impatience dripping from his tone as he swiveled his head back and forth, looking all around them.

“Me and Al will sit in the back with the others. Bish, Lupin, you sit up front.” 

The two brothers were already clambering in, leaving Bish and Lupin and the parrot alone with Seamus on the street. He offered a hand up, and Lupin waved for Bish to go on. Her friend circled around, taking up the empty seat on the other side of Seamus. When Lupin was up, Seamus was effectively sandwiched between the two women. There was discontented grumbling from the back, to which Seamus hissed at them all to quiet down. He turned back to face the front, rolling his shoulders, glancing at the two women on either side of him. “Right. You two good?”

Bish nodded, uttering a soft reply that she was. Lupin did much the same, the bird pressed close to her chest as she ran her fingers through his feathers. Mister Cotton’s parrot seemed to enjoy the attention and gentle preening her friend was doing. Seamus took this in stride, gave the reins to the oxen a sharp snap, and the cart began to roll away, clattering down the street.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? One o’ Cap’n Teague’s men came an’ found us. Didn’t know the Keeper o’ the Code was in Tripoli. Good sign o’ luck, I’d wager he was though. First the Pirate Lord o’ the Black Sea escortin’ us out here, an’ now the Keeper o’ the Code? Ye know what I think?” He eyed the two women, swaying his head back and forth to do so, expectant and daring them to ask. Both of them remained quiet, and disappointed at their lack of inquiry, Seamus continued. “I think it might ‘ave somethin’ to do with our good cap’n, s’what I think.”

“How astute.” Lupin drawled. 

“Whassat mean?” 

“It means ‘observant’ or ‘attentive’.” Bish provided helpfully.

“Oh.” Seamus thought on this for a brief moment, before shrugging it off. “I do mean what I said earlier. I think this all might be connected to Cap’n Sparrow.”

“Of course it is! Now stop flappin’ yer damn trap, yer gonna get us caught worse than th’ bird!” A hoarse voice hissed at them from the hay stack. Lupin cast an annoyed look over her shoulder, looking ready to tell Marty off, but thought better of it and instead turned back around. Whether she wanted to tell the man off or not, he was right. Talking about Jack so openly would no doubt end in disastrous results. The oxen-pulled cart clonked right along the streets, slow and steady, but at a reasonable clip. It was certainly faster than trying to traverse the whole city by foot.

They passed people along the road, few and far in between, brave souls taking the risk of being harrassed by the invading force that were scouring their streets, all in the search of one man and his entire crew. Seamus always tensed up when the familiar march of smartly dressed feet drew close, hyper aware of their presence, even if his face didn’t show it.

“Can we go faster?” Bish finally dared to ask. “I think I’d like to go a little faster.” 

“Not with the streets we’re taking. Trying to stay off main roads an’ the like. Don’t want t’ go invitin’ any more trouble than we already got.”

Bish heard a quiet contentious little mumble that sounded suspiciously like Edward, but she wasn’t entirely sure. She watched from the corner of her eye as Lupin played with Mister Cotton’s parrot, her hands and attention thoroughly preoccupied and a bit of jealousy bit at her. She wished she had something to preoccupy her thoughts as well. She missed crocheting. She missed writing on her computer. She would have killed for a proper book to read. Anything would have definitely taken the edge off of things, although, maybe…not really. This was too high-tension a situation. She’d never really be able to concentrate.

She wondered how her friend could even be distracted so right now—

“Seamus, stop!”

Bish reacted automatically: she jerked forward, grabbing at Seamus’s hands that held the reins and he too reacted by yanking hard on the reins. The oxen bellowed in protest, but nonetheless complied, coming to a grinding and sudden halt. A meter away from the noses of those great beasts stood a squadron of four red-clad men, each armed with bayonets affixed to the ends of their long muskets, a sword dangling at each of their sides. Bishquet’s heart went full tilt, trip-hammering away in her chest so loud and heavy, she was sure the new arrivals could easily hear it, no stethoscope required.

The quartet ahead of them waited for nearly a heart-stopping minute, the moments between them ticking away, frozen in time. One of the red-clad men moved forward, breaking the strained tension.

“Evening, sir. Can we help ye?” Seamus spoke, keeping his voice steady as can be as the redcoat approached. He was average in height, his uniform clean and pristine, as were the weapons he sported. Shifting his musket to one of his shoulders, he stared up between Seamus in his rough cloak, and the two women, silent for several seconds before speaking.

“A fellow Englishman. Not too many of those in this port,” he replied conversationally, although he didn’t smile. He kept his eyes trained on Seamus, barely giving notice to Bishquet or Lupin.

“Bit of a smelting pot here, innit?” Seamus agreed.

“Right,” the redcoat said smartly. “I’ll get to the point. We’re currently on the hunt for a notorious pirate by the name of Jack Sparrow.” 

As he spoke, one of his companions came forward, drawing forth a piece of parchment and presenting the same etching of Jack as they had earlier seen at the docks. A wanted poster with a small list of Jack’s past criminal transgressions and a monetary reward for his capture. Bish nearly jumped out of her skin when Cotton’s parrot shrieked, “Wind in yer sails! Wind in yer sails!” 

The redcoat twitched in surprise, head snapping toward Lupin and the parrot. She sheepishly pulled a hand protectively over the bird’s back, burying her fingers into the scruff of his blue feathery head.

“Sorry. He likes to talk. Can’t get him to stop now that I got him starting!” Lupin said with a nervous smile.

His eyes narrowed briefly, considering her for a moment longer. He finally returned his attention back to Seamus. “As I was saying…we’re hunting this man, and eyewitnesses claim to have seen a ship with black sails berthed here in the harbour.”

“We was just at the harbour not too long ago. We ain’t rightly seen a ship like that. Nor have we seen that man. Right, ladies?” Seamus said, scanning Bish and Lupin quickly for confirmation.

“Haven’t seen anything like it,” Bishquet found herself saying automatically, shaking her head. Lupin replied much the same, all while continuing to pet that bird, distracting him with head scratches that kept him peaceful and quiet. A thoughtful array of emotions played across the man’s face as he stood there with his peer. At first, he appeared blandly stoic, before a stint of unspoken inquiry flashed across his face, before it finally settled on a resolute acceptance. 

He nodded to his peer, who backed away with wanted poster and all, returning with the other two still standing idly before the oxen, refusing to budge. The third member remained stuck at the cart’s side, combing his eyes over the three of them once more—as though he was trying to sniff out any deceit but couldn’t quite prove if there was any. Finally, he began to pivot his body, ever so slightly, a motion that gave Bish some amount of relief—but not quite enough, as the man in his lobster-red coat lingered, dithering, extending the moment into eons rather than seconds. With a stiff nod that perpetuated finality, he began to turn at last, away from them and toward his fellow navymen, fucking finally, they were home fucking free—

Everyone froze at the sudden sneeze that emanated from behind them. The two redcoats at the front craned their heads and necks, as though they were attempting to turn into cranes, all long-limbed and twisty-necked. They advanced, paying no mind to the twin oxen snorting and pawing at the ground as they flanked the cart, hands gripping their muskets tightly between white knuckles. The third still standing beside the cart flung into action, musket up and the bayonet staring them down like a single fang. Bish gripped the bench seat tightly, her breath hitching in her chest.

_That didn’t come from the back, that didn’t come from the back, that didn’t come from the fucking back…_

The mantra kept playing in her head as she watched the tip of the weapon move away from them, but with the absence of one, two more sprung up in its place, keeping them pinned in place. What had begun as an uncomfortable patter in her chest where her heart resided, escalated into full-on cannon-fire. It was calamitous as it beat a painful tattoo against her rib cage, she was almost positive that these soldiers of the sea could hear it. Bish was almost prepared for the two muskets pointed at them to let loose their iron payloads, to simply put an end to them, justice system be damned. The thought of simply disappearing with not a bang but a whimper, and without her family knowing what has happened to her, was weighing down heavily upon her thoughts.

What Bish was not expecting was for Seamus and Lupin, as though through unspoken agreement, though preconceived coordination, leapt into action. Mister Cotton’s parrot went flying, Seamus dove off the bench with his sword swinging, the entire hay stack in the cart exploded into thousands of stray pieces. Bishquet was already flinging herself away, too numb to realize she was doing so. She didn’t see where Lupin had gotten off to, but the chaos was already well underway and she lost track of where everyone had gone off. The oxen brayed and bellowed, yanking themselves forward and the cart along with them to get away from the danger. It didn’t work as they somehow, someway, managed to overturn the cart in their panic, and their restraints broke them free. The oxen ended up leaving their burdens behind as they lumbered off at a full gallop.

The pirates that had been hidden away in the straw were now well into the open, having taken the lobster-backs by surprise. Their advantage was short-lived, and the opposition soon sprang into action themselves.

By the time the dust had cleared, Bish had found herself ducked inside the fallen cart, having squeezed inside it where it lay pressed against the side of a building. She winced every time a pistol went off with a deafening bang and every time the scream of metal on metal rang in the air with every sword strike. When the sounds of the fight finally subsided, Bish slowly popped her head out, taking small and shallow breaths.

She wasn’t surprised when she saw the bodies littering the street. She just wasn’t ready for it, not really. Bish dropped her gaze, pursing her lips tightly together. Bish brought herself to her feet, trying to keep herself calm, trying to tell herself that things were fine, even when they fucking weren’t. Everything was not fucking all right. This wasn’t fun. This wasn’t a walk in the park, this wasn’t a trip she could just cancel, call it quits, and go home from.

She shoved down the urge to puke, instead focusing on the sweaty, hard-breathing men scattered around the street, still standing and unharmed—for now. She searched their faces, alarmed when she saw a few were missing, and started for Tearlach and Marty but stopped short when everyone stiffened. Shoulders jutted out, spines straightened, heads craned upward at the rising cry of voices ushering closer to them. 

“Run! Run, you pox infested dogs!” 

Indignation at the insult aside, Bish wasn’t going to question the wisdom of that advice. She didn’t know where she was going, but it sure beat the hell out of hanging around, waiting for the rest of Norrington’s men to catch up to them.

**OoOoOoOoOoO  
**

She was getting tired of being somebody else’s punching bag. From her own mistakes with the knife to those scoundrels back in Cádiz to…right now. Waking up with a mouth full of blood and even more blood crusting her nose and cheeks was not exactly on her list of “fun things to do today!” Life sure had a funny sense of humour, because the ironic twist in all of this was that she didn’t think any of this was fucking funny.

From waking up bloodied and bruised to the waking up inside some ship’s brig…

No, no. Scratch that. Life wasn’t fucking funny at all. It was being a pain in her ass.

That was the one thing she was trying to focus on so she didn’t fall face first into the yawning pit of terror that was undoubtedly growing in the pit of her chest. 

She wasn’t alone, she noticed almost right away, after she shook away the lingering static fuzziness encompassing her mind. It was dimly lit, with only a few lanterns beyond lighting the interior. She was in a cell by herself, a fact she ahd noted almost right off the bat, but the cells to her right were all full of familiar faces. Jack’s crew. She saw Marty, Duncan, and Tearlach, Mister Cotton, Ho-Kwon and Leech…and Mister Gibbs was among the faces here. She didn’t see Jack. She also didn’t see either of the Elric brothers, nor did she see Bishquet.

Relief swelled up and swept through her, but the respite was fleeting.

_They’re not here and that’s fucking fantastic, but how the hell are the rest of us going to get out of here?_

The men had yet to notice she had awoken. They were looking too angry, dejected, or demoralized to take stock of anything else around them. She glanced out beyond the cell, and saw one man in his bright red uniform standing guard just outside the cell, his back turned to them, with a sword dangling in its scabbard at his side.

Lupin slowly pulled herself up to her feet, taking stock of how achy she felt and wincing when her back and legs protested movement. Jumping over tall alley and livestock fences and running for her life had left her winded and wanting for a longer spell of rest. She couldn’t just sit here, though. Sitting around, too scared to act, just blindly going along with the crowd—that was going to lead a death march straight to the gallows.

 _I refuse to do that. Gotta think, gotta think, gotta think…_

In spite of her want for a daring idea for an equally daring escape, she realized she had no clue what to do, or how to get out. All she could see was the cell bars around her, a dejected set of individuals locked in the other two cells in the same boat—literally and figuratively—as her, a single guard, and…and…

 _I’m alone,_ Lupin realized. _Why am I alone? There’s plenty of room in the cell next to me. Why didn’t they pair me off with the guys?_

She gripped the bars of her cell, screwing her eyes up in a squint as she stared at the red-coated man still standing there with his back to her, unaware that one of his charges had woken up. She gave the door of the cell an experimental shake. It held firm. She looked along the seam of the door for the hinges, but pulled a face when she realized she didn’t know what half-barrel hinges looked like, and she didn’t have the strength to lift the door. Not on her own.

_Idiot. Just because it worked in a movie, doesn’t mean it’d work for you in real life. Get out of fantasy land, and get back to the real world._

Internal berating aside, Lupin was still stuck on the unknown reason as to why she was sitting in her very own, private cell, separated from the men. 

_Do they think they’re saving my virtue or something like that?_

She frowned. It was something along those lines. 

“Miss Lupin. Glad to see yer awake.”

Lupin nearly startled at the sudden cutting intrusion, snapping her head over to see Mister Gibbs staring at her through the bars. A few others looked her way, but their attention was brief. They went back to staring into the empty space ahead of them, either sulking, resigned, or gritting their teeth perhaps in anger at having been caught. 

“Yeah. Not sure I’m glad to be that way, though,” she replied back after a pregnant pause. Mister Gibbs pursed his lips, as though he was trying to suppress a sharp remark. Instead, he motioned toward his face, then pointed at hers.

“Ye’ve got some red on ye,” he settled for. Lupin rubbed at the side of her cheek, red flakes of dried blood crumbling at her touch. She winced as her fingers brushed against the gash there, snatching her fingers away.

“Yeah. Thanks.” She grumbled back. She noticed from the corner of her eye their guard had glanced over at her, narrowing his eyes. He turned away with a curdled sneer.

She eyed him a little longer, before shuffling toward the other cell. Mister Gibbs did the same, with the others parting to let the older gent closer.

“What’s going to happen? Jack can’t sail the _Pearl_ without us, can he? Will he?”

Mister Gibbs hesitated to answer, looking pained between answering honestly and answering to spare her the more gruesome details.

“He can’t, not if he has less than six people,” he finally settled for. “Fat lot good it’ll do him if he does, though. Not with a hurricane on the way. He’ll need every able-bodied hand to spare if we’re to get ahead of it, but that window’s closing fast with us locked up in here.”

Lupin nodded, trying to keep her face neutral. She couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the red-clad backside still facing them.

“Did you see how many are out there?”

“Not many,” Mister Gibbs replied, lowering his voice so much that Lupin had to lean in closer to hear him. “But it won’t do us any good if we’re stuck in here.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“No,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “And none of these addle-brained bilge rats have any clue as to how we’re to escape, either. Unless Jack comes back for us, we’re destined for a short walk and a sudden drop.”

“The gallows. Got it,” Lupin affirmed with a sour look. She leaned away, taking a few steps back. The cell wasn’t all that big, but it felt enormous with all the space she had been spared compared to the others. She felt bad for the rest of the crew, as her eyes swept everywhere, trying to see if they had anything out she could use to her advantage—something Norrington’s men had left conveniently within reach that she could grab, use as a weapon or a lock pick, _something_ …

That was when she noticed something. Or rather, it was the lack of something. There was no place to use the bathroom. Not even a bucket or a bench for them to do their business. She moved to the bench in her cell, inspecting it. Yep. No signs of a makeshift toilet with a hole cut in the floorboards for their use. No buckets, no nothing.

Slowly, the gears were turning in her head. What use was that information to her?

She mulled on it, although she could already feel the tidbit slipping away into obscurity when it hit her.

_If we don’t have a bathroom here…they must let us out for shifts._

She looked at the guard’s back again, baldly gaping at him for nearly a minute.

 _There’s only one guy._ She eyed his sword, toying with the idea of making a brave move to yank it out of the scabbard and make him release the others at sword point…but then discarded the wild notion on the fact that she barely could use one, and this guy probably had a lot more experience than she did. She was a novice in comparison.

 _But there’s only one guy. What can I do?_ She thought about it, soaking in her misery, before it hit her and a plan was forming in her head already. It was loose and fast, but it just might work—if she didn’t chicken out or fuck it up. 

She glanced Mister Gibbs way, catching his eye, and she winked. He blinked several times, shooting her an openly confused look before she tore her gaze away and banged the palm of her hand on the bars of her cell.

“Hey! Open this up, I need to use the head.”

The redcoat ignored her for about three seconds, before he turned on his heel and barked at her to shut up. He had barely turned back before she was rattling the bars again, louder this time.

“Did you hear me! I. Have. To. Go. Pee!”

The men to her right muttered comments on her bold choice of words, either in surprise or disgust. She ignored them, keeping her focus solely on the redcoat. Their designated guard finally turned fully on his heel and came right up to the cell door, inches away from her, glowering down at her.

“I said be quiet! If you must do your business, then I suggest you spread your legs and squat in the corner! Not that much different from what you have to do on a pirate’s ship, is it?”

He looked smug as he leaned away, perhaps taking Lupin’s silence as quiet indignance. He was only half-right. She schooled her face into a glower.

“Are you _kidding_ me? Do you really think Commodore Norrington wants to hear how his lady captive is squatting like a dog and pissing on his precious ship’s floorboards? Where not only I have to walk, but where you and your men must walk? And I don’t want these assholes looking at my…lady parts! I have a bit more pride over my privacy than _that_.”

The look on his face slowly melted into barely-disguised disgust as she spoke, and emboldened by that, Lupin steamrolled right on through. 

“Look, I’m the only who needs to go. I just need to use the head, in and out and what can I do? I’m unarmed and I’m tiny. What threat am I to you?” 

“Enough of a threat that you’re on that side of the bars, and I’m on this side.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just keep on screaming out that I need to pee until your commanding officer hears the ruckus and comes down here, asking why I’m not at least given a bucket. Or I could sing annoying songs until you feel like you’ll need to rip your ears off, loudly and at length. Your choice.”

Before she could even open her mouth to begin—either to scream “I need to pee!” repeatedly or to sing something in the spectrum of annoying and repetitive—the man whirled, a thunderous look on his face barely contained behind a mask of decorum and professionalism. Lupin could see the gears clicking away in his head as he struggled with a decision. She saw him deflate at last, his shoulders sagging as he straightened and turned towards a post, where a set of keys hung on a hook. He returned, sorting out one key and inserting it into keyhole. The cell door swung open with a creak and the redcoat stepped aside, to let Lupin pass through. When she stepped through, he grabbed her upper arm and squeezed it tight, letting her know she wasn’t going to have complete freedom.

“This way.”

He moved and tugged her with him, and she was almost surprised he hadn’t bound her chains before letting her out. She decided to hold her tongue on the matter as he led her to another part of the ship. He let her go, only when the head was in sight, and when she walked forward with trepidation, she noticed he was watching her still. She stopped and faced him. He stared at her still, before impatience finally won out.

“Well? Go about your business or I will return you to your cell.”

“I’m not going with you watching me. I might be with the crew, but I have standards. Turn around.”

He looked ready to argue, but thought on the matter, before he slowly, slowly turned around. He stood there, guarding the only way in and the only way out. He was confident she wasn’t going anywhere. Just like the cell.

Jitters suddenly overcame her, and her hands shook uncontrollably as she assessed the man’s backside. He was tall, but not much taller than her. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were slick with sweat. She wiped them on her jeans, trying to dry them in vain.

_You can do this. Just like Ed showed you. Just do it like he showed you._

She let out a shaky breath as she sized up the man one more time. Her legs felt rubbery and energized by adrenaline all at once as she jumped, scaling the man. He cried out, but his voice cut off as Lupin snaked a wiry arm around his throat, right into the crook of her elbow. She squeezed hard, grabbing hold of her arm with her other one, locking her limbs together. The lobster back stumbled, fumbling to get his sword out of his scabbard, but his body rapidly turned sluggish and unresponsive. He swayed once on his feet before collapsing underneath her.

Lupin was too afraid to let go at first, too afraid that he was faking it or would spring up as soon as she did.  When she finally did loosen her grip, she had to wriggle her arm out, as it was pinned underneath the redcoat. She almost tripped over her own feet as she swayed back upright, her heart beating like a war drum in her chest, her hands shaking like a leaf in the wind. She stood there, not quite registering her victory before she grinned nervously and backtracked her way to the brig.

The others stared blankly at Lupin for nearly a good ten seconds before noticing she was alone. Mister Gibbs flew to the cell door and gripped the bars in a white-knuckled grip as he stared at her with bulging eyes and an unabashed smile.

“How did you do it?”

“Knocked him out.”

“You didn’t kill him?” Leech queried, sounding vaguely condescending as he peered at her through half-lidded eyes. “No conviction to have blood on your hands, or did you simply back out at the last moment?”

“I don’t exactly have a weapon on me.”

“His sword would have sufficed. But of course you couldn’t handle it.”

“Okay, I’m gonna leave now. Take care now, buh-bye then.” She swiveled on her heel, making for a mock exit. The others hissed and pleaded with her to not leave them.

“Leech, shut yer damned trap! And Miss Lupin, please—get the keys, let us out!” 

Lupin snorted and shuffled toward the post where the keys still hung. “Geez, I wasn’t really gonna leave you guys behind. Although I’m tempted to, with the borderline hostile commentary coming from that asshole, right there.”

She cycled through the choice of keys, and tried at least two before the lock turned and the first door swung open. The men poured out, already making beelines for whatever materials and effects they could get their hands on. Mister Gibbs clapped a hand on her shoulder.

“Good lass, ye did a mighty fine job. Where’d you leave the poor devil?”

“By the head. Still got a sword, if you wanna stock up.”

“Right. Lads, hurry it up, we haven’t much time.”

“Wait, Mister Gibbs—what about this ship?”

“What about it?”

“We can’t just leave it.”

He furrowed his brows at her. “What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just one more ship that’ll pursue us if we just leave it. Can’t we, I don’t know…sabotage it?” She hesitated, quickly deciding whether to go with it, before she chucked caution to the wind and added, “Like disabling the rudder chain?”

Mister Gibbs stared, looking ready to question her intents before a small smile spread across his face, a gleam lighting up his eyes.

“Aye, I see what you’re onto now! I need someone to do that.”

“I got it,” Tearlach affirmed, ducking around a post and heading off who-knows-where, but they were moving like a well-oiled machine, like they hadn’t just lost a couple of steps due to their capture.

Mister Gibbs turned back to her, and stopped Duncan, pulling him to the side to stand by Lupin.

“I want you two t’ secure us transport. There’s a stable not far from here.”

“D’ye think there’s enough horses for us all?”

“If not, we’ll double up. Now go, hurry it up!”

“What about the guards up top?”

“We’ll take it nice’n quiet, Miss Lupin,” Duncan replied with a nod to her. He grinned and patted her shoulder. “Let’s go now, afore we lose our element o’ surprise!” 

**OoOoOoOoOoO**


End file.
